A Day In The Life
by Startled Boris
Summary: What really goes on in Russia's household? Is it all bullying, torture, intimidation and abuse? Or lost kittens, floral curtains, random parties, viagara and cross-dressing? Can fem Latvia stay one step ahead of Russia? Prequel to Baltic Secrets. Characters: Russia,the Baltics, Belarus, Ukraine, Prussia and appearances from the Nordics, England, France etc.
1. Monster

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Characters: Russia, femLatvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Ukraine, Poland, Belarus, and cameos from others**

**Genre: Lord if I know, humour/angst/drama – is there a genre for idiocy?**

**Setting: Soviet Russia 1950s-1980s (may jump backwards and forwards a bit), Russia's house in Leningrad (now St Petersburg)**

**Authors Note: This story probably will not be in chronological order. It may not even be in any order. Each chapter will be literally a day in the life of... so can be read as a series of one-shots. Don't expect much historical accuracy – if there is any it's purely coincidental. Please be patient as I'm probably writing the sequel to Baltics Secrets (Revelations) at the same time (sigh).**

**This is a prequel to the Baltics Secrets. What really goes on in Soviet Russia's household? Is it all bullying, torture, intimidation and abuse? Or lost kittens, floral curtains, random parties, viagara and cross-dressing. Can female Latvia keep her secret (of course if you've read the other stories you know she can) but how does she stay one step ahead of her boss? Join the Baltics in their everyday life living under Russian rule. May contain scenes with unresolved sexual tension. ****Not for the faint-hearted. Angst/fluff (flangst?)/hurt-comfort and as usual some crack because even when I'm trying to be all angsty I can't resist a bit of humour. Later chapters may go up to 'M'.**

Chapter 1 – Monster

It was very early morning in Russia's household. The sun was just rising as the three Baltics sat around the kitchen table in various states of consciousness. Lithuania poured another mug of black coffee and yawned. The bags under his eyes would have invoked an extra surcharge for baggage allowance were he to catch a flight that day. Estonia slumped in his chair, his eyes barely open. Latvia was face down on the table and snoring softly.

"That was a rough night," Estonia yawned.

"Just a bit," Lithuania agreed and rubbed the tender muscles of his neck with one hand and then stretched his back and winced, "I'm going to be black and blue, I just know it."

Latvia slowly lifted her head and said, fearfully, "Where is he now?"

"Still down in the basement," Estonia answered, shuddering.

"Perhaps one of us should take him some coffee?" Lithuania said.

The other two Baltics looked at Toris as if he'd grown another head.

"Please don't make me go back down there," Latvia whined.

"Pull yourself together," Lithuania said.

"Don't tell me to man up, Toris. I'm trying my best," Latvia squeaked, and then adjusted the baggy uniform around her small breasts, ensured they were still inconspicuous and blew out her cheeks, "I hate it here. I can't take any more nights like that one."

"None of us can," Estonia said, the dark circles looked like bruises under his eyes.

* * *

><p>Twelve hours earlier...<p>

It had been an average sort of day in Russia's household. No electrical appliances had met their doom and Russia had not kolkolled once.

Estonia had spent much of the day doing paperwork. Lithuania had cooked dinner. Latvia – whose duties were supposed to be laundry and cleaning – had given the books in Russia's library a desultory flick with a duster before hiding behind the floor-length curtains and reading a huge tome on Russian history. (At first she'd picked up a book on Russian geography, had blushed furiously at the maps and the descriptions – _Russia is the largest country in the world, covering more than one eighth of the Earth's inhabited land area_. However, she giggled at one line – _Russia is the number one natural gas producer_. 'Damn true,' she thought, 'particularly when they'd had peas for supper'.)

Things did not really kick off, drama-wise, until after dinner when Russia, who usually fell sound asleep on the couch in the living room with an empty vodka bottle held limply in his hand, was this evening sat growling in said living room glaring at the flickering television screen.

The three Baltics held a post-mortem after these events on what could possibly have gone wrong. Who had left the television on? Who hadn't supervised the television channels? Why was a war documentary allowed to be transmitted into Russia's living room?

What happened next was obvious. Lithuania walked in and watched in horror as one of the Baltics' rules was well and truly broken to smithereens (Golden Rule Number One – Never Let a War Documentary be shown on the TV). Before Lithuania could hit the off button (it would have been too late anyway) Russia had leapt to his feet. "They're coming," he said in a horrid, quiet voice and then he pointed to the television at a fuzzy black and white newsreel showing German soldiers advancing into the Motherland. His usually wide, cheerful childish grin was replaced with a serious look of horror and barely contained rage.

Russia dropped his vodka bottle (a sure sign he meant business) and slammed a large fist into the television screen.

Toris shook his head, "No, Sir. They're not... it's not..." he protested.

But Russia did not listen. A purple haze hung around his shoulders and his violet eyes were wild, the pupils dilated. He strode through to the front door and flung it open, almost taking it off its hinges. He stood looking out over the city.

Traffic noise, the sounds and smells of Leningrad assailed him. But Russia was oblivious. He was back in 1941 and his beloved city was about to be assailed by the enemy. He threw the door shut with a huge slam that shook the house and began pacing the hallway.

"Sir, it's not real. It's 1977. You're not there. You're here..." Toris tried to bring him back to the present.

Russia wasn't listening. He suddenly stopped pacing and ran down into the basement.

Lithuania ran into the study, "Eduard, code red!" he said.

"What? What do you mean?" Estonia said, but realisation dawned as Russia stormed in with hammer, nails and a Kalishnikov rifle over his shoulder and started nailing the windows shut.

Estonia pointed at Russia and mouthed at Lithuania, "Who mentioned the war?"

"TV," Lithuania mouthed back.

Estonia shook his head. If it were up to him the television would be thrown outside. As it happened no-one would be watching anything for a while anyway.

Russia waved his 'Kalash' at them, "Help me, before the bombing starts," he said.

Both men exchanged glances. It was easier just to go along with it. Don't argue, don't protest, it would only worsen the situation. Wait it out. They'd done this so many times. So with reluctance they helped Russia board up the majority of the windows and haul sandbags in from the garden shed and laid them under the doors and against the windows.

"Vodka?" Estonia said hopefully. "Pills? Has he taken his meds?" he asked Lithuania as Russia stormed off in agitation, swearing and cussing in Russian.

"I don't know..." Lithuania sighed. He was as fed up of this as Estonia. The medication often made Russia drowsy but at least they calmed his moods and kept him 'there' in the present. However, due to Russia's eleven time zones, he could fall asleep at anytime and anywhere. Many times they'd found him curled up on the doorstep wrapped in his Red Army greatcoat in the middle of the afternoon. And he only took his medication when he remembered to take it. His memory was fragile at the best of times.

"Where's Raivis?" Lithuania said suddenly. Estonia shook his head, he hadn't seen her since earlier that day – no doubt doing as little housework as possible.

They soon found out. There was a squeal and yell which was punctuated by a much deeper growl.

"Eeek! Mr Russia! Put me down!" came Latvia's voice from a far-off room.

"Latviaaaaa!" Estonia and Lithuania shouted in unison.

Russia had the smallest Baltic slung over his shoulder, holding her steady with one hand, his other hand holding his rifle. He motioned to Lithuania and Estonia to follow him down into the basement.

Estonia made a break for it, got to the kitchen, scooped up bottles of vodka, provisions of chocolate and a pack of playing cards and re-emerged as he heard Russia's voice shouting, "Estonia! Get down here now!"

'Damn the big bloody idiot,' Estonia thought and, dragging his heels, followed his boss (Latvia still over the Russian's shoulder looking both extremely annoyed and frightened) and Lithuania down into the depths of the basement.

* * *

><p>Russia's basement was a cold, dank affair. A bundle of army blankets was in one corner, along with boxes of ammunition, rifles, tins of provisions (predominantly some sort of meat and beans), cans of drinking water and a first aid box. There was no natural light, the only light coming from a single bare 60 watt bulb and the concrete floor was cold and hard. Latvia slipped off Russia's shoulder and sank down against the brick wall, hugging her knees. Lithuania pulled a torch out of the box and switched it on.<p>

"The electricity hasn't gone out," Russia said quietly, cocking his head, "They haven't hit the cables yet."

Estonia shook his head and plonked himself next to Latvia.

"Don't humour him," Estonia whispered to Lithuania. Toris ignored him, pulled out some blankets and handed them to his fellow Baltics.

Russia shut the door and began piling sandbags against it. Satisfied that the door was suitably reinforced, he sat with his back to it and lit a cigarette, his rifle on the floor next to him. "I'll protect you, my little Baltics," he said quietly.

The 'little Baltics' all sighed. Estonia took out a pack of cards and started dealing a hand of poker. Lithuania lit a cigarette, Latvia trembled and huddled under her blanket.

"I will protect all Russians," Russia said, taking a swig of vodka and then he visibly winced as an imaginary bomb exploded over thirty years before, "... and all those people who aren't Russian yet," he added ominously.

Estonia ignored him, hoping against hope that Russia would soon be asleep and they could get out. He dealt himself a royal flush and swept up his winnings (chocolate buttons) from Lithuania who was too distracted watching Russia, and Latvia, who was clearly too scared to really take any notice.

"A game of Monopoly?" Estonia asked.

"A capitalist pig's game," Russia said.

"Cluedo? Snakes and ladders?" Estonia thought furiously, he was damned if he was going to just sit there shivering whilst Russia blocked the door all night, still stuck in 1941.

Lithuania shook his head at him.

Russia held his head in his hands and shook as his fractured mind went back several decades and he heard the bombs exploding, screams of fear, the dying around him. He curled up in a foetal position, his broad back against the door, held his vodka bottle against his chest and tried to shut out the 'noise', his hands over his ears.

"Okay, a game of chess anyone?" Estonia asked, rooting around in the box of games he'd brought down many years before. He learned from experience that spending anything up to twelve hours in this grotty, damp, cold basement with nothing to do but stare at your feet and contemplate your eternal life would be a sure-fire short-cut to insanity and they'd all be joining their mad boss on a one-way train to Nutsville.

Lithuania again shook his head at him. "Have a heart, Ed," he told him.

All three Baltics jumped as Russia got to his feet and swayed dangerously, his head cocked on one side, "They're coming," he said flatly.

Latvia could feel goosebumps rising on her arms and the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably. She felt herself straining to hear for the bombs and the sound of soldiers and looked to Lithuania. The elder Baltic gently placed a hand on her arm.

Russia slid the safety catch off the rifle and faced the door for whatever he thought was going to come through it.

It is doubtful if anything could get past Russia were it to get through the door, but evidently Russia did think something or someone was going to get in. He stood swaying on his feet – the bottle of vodka finally having some effect (to Estonia and Lithuania's relief), his head to one side, breathing heavily and muttering about the 'German oppressor'. He trembled again, his body shivering as, evidently the bombs fell closer.

Raivis also shivered, her eyes wide like large pools as she watched Russia.

"I'm scared," she whispered, to no-one really and she didn't really know why she was scared. There were no bombs or soldiers – only those raging through Russia's splintered memories.

Russia turned from the door at the sound of her voice, his eyes had a weird faraway look, the knuckles white where he gripped his rifle. He drew out the faucet pipe from his coat with his other hand and gripped it, "Who said that?" he whispered.

"Me," Latvia squeaked, she drew herself further against the wall, her back pressed against it until she almost disappeared into the bricks (but of course she didn't...).

Lithuania got to his feet and stood protectively in front of her. Had Russia realised Latvia was a girl? He wasn't sure, but he was prepared to defend her. Russia's mental state at that moment was delicate and Lithuania wasn't sure what the big Russian's intentions would be.

Russia shoved Lithuania out of the way, and the smaller Nation hit the wall like a small bird.

"Sir!" Lithuania protested, rubbing his back.

Russia mumbled something almost akin to an apology and shuffled down next to Latvia, pushing Estonia out of the way.

He set down his rifle and put a protective arm around the smaller Nation, "Don't worry, little Raivis, I will protect you."

"Sir, she's..." Lithuania stopped suddenly, realising with utter horror the error he'd made.

Estonia looked up in shock, as did Latvia, her head under Russia's armpit.

"I know he looks and sounds like a girl, Toris. But there is no need to be rude," Russia said, glaring at Lithuania.

All three Baltics let out a collective breath of relief. Well, all but one, Latvia was being hugged so tightly she could barely exhale.

"Sir," she squeaked, "You're squeezing me."

Russia loosened his hold on her. The rifle at his feet, the faucet pipe in his other hand, he held Raivis at his side but glared at Toris. "You are a bully to Raivis," he told the Lithuanian.

Toris shook his head and sat down against the opposite wall with a blanket over his head, perhaps if he went to sleep they would all be gone and everything would be back to normal – or whatever constituted 'normal' in the madness of Russia's household. He finally laid down on the cold concrete floor and day-dreamed of his best friend, Feliks and running in golden fields of wheat and barley.

Estonia began a game of solitaire, occasionally casting glances at Toris and then at Russia.

Latvia felt almost safe and strangely warm pressed against Russia's side. However, she didn't dare move and she felt Russia tremble, his muscles tensing every so often as he strained to hear explosions and gunfire - his own cracked memories or the remembrances of his people long dead, it was unsure. She kept her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them and hoped to God his hand didn't wander from around her shoulders. Gradually she slipped into a kind of doze.

A few minutes or hours went by, it was hard to tell, and then Russia suddenly said, his voice sounding harsh and broken, "I need to go out. I need to help all those people. Women and children are dying..."

Latvia's eyes snapped open and Lithuania jerked his head up in horror.

Although it would mean they would be free, Russia, in his current state of mind with a Kalishnikov, could do untold damage on the streets of Leningrad.

Russia started to get to his feet. Latvia took a deep breath and, urged on by wordless nods from Lithuania, said shakily, "Please, Mr Russia, stay here. Stay with us. We're all scared."

"But my people..." Russia started to say.

Estonia shook his head, "They're not dying, Sir," he said, his patience finally over-riding his fear.

"They are... I can hear them," Russia's eyes were full of untold sadness and he gripped his faucet pipe.

Latvia's heart clenched for him. But they couldn't let him go. She gently placed a hand on his arm.

Lithuania said softly, "Wait until the bombing stops, Sir. Then we'll all go out and help whoever's around."

Russia considered this, "I'm not a coward, Toris."

"No-one is saying you are, Sir," Toris said carefully. His boss was many things – childish, petty, manipulative (particularly around the Western Nations), sometimes bullying, intimidating, capable of acts of great kindness and gentleness, weirdly protective and possessive, more than completely deranged but never ever a coward (unless Belarus was in full 'marry me' mode).

Russia pulled Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia (the latter pulled right into his chest) into a huge bear-hug. "I love my Baltics," he hummed and then his body shook again as another bomb exploded in his head.

* * *

><p>It was many hours before Russia finally collapsed with exhaustion. After pacing to and fro, occasionally swigging from a bottle of vodka and waving 'Mr Pipe' around and then alternating this with hugging Latvia and sometimes Lithuania to his chest, he finally curled up like a huge dog and started snoring – the sound reverberating around the cellar.<p>

The three Baltics waited a few minutes, hardly daring to move, just to make sure he was sound asleep and then made a run for the door. They scrambled to move the sandbags and pulled the basement door open. As a blast of cold, fresh air assailed them, Latvia turned back and before her brain could scream 'no' at her, she scurried back, took a blanket and gently wrapped it around Russia's shoulders.

Estonia and Lithuania froze in horror in the doorway as Russia's snoring halted and then the big Russian snuggled down, his breathing steadied and they relaxed.

Latvia paused looking down at her sleeping boss and was about to say something before Lithuania hauled her away by the scruff of the neck, and practically carried her up the cellar steps.

Another day in the life of the Baltics...

**Author's Notes: The Siege of Leningrad started in September 1941 and was not lifted until January 1944, although the Soviets did manage to make a land corridor and relieve the stricken citizens some time in January 1943.**

**Kalash – Russian slang term for a Kalishnikov rifle – however they weren't introduced into the Red Army until the 1950s.**

**I don't claim to be an expert on post-traumatic stress disorder – but I reckon that's what Russia suffers from as well as other unidentified mental problems (memory loss etc).**

**Another slice of life in Russia's household next week (if anyone wants it?)**

**Reviews/comments welcome.**


	2. Falling

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite so early on in the story and gave me inspiration to carry on:** **Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia**

**Warnings: that would be telling... read with an open mind**

Chapter 2 – Falling

Paris, France

Russia's moves were smooth, silk as satin. Gliding, sliding - their movements finally matched each other and with each position change, Latvia caught her breath, for a moment afraid to let go, then she would relax a little as she felt the big Russian pull her into his arms, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders for added security.

"Just relax," he told her. He certainly knew what he was doing, that was for sure. His movements were powerful and strong - borne of many years' experience. Faster and faster they went, Latvia out of breath, Russia's heavy breathing ruffling the smaller Nation's blond locks. Latvia's trembling finally eased a little, however, despite Russia's best efforts, she thought she would never really enjoy it, the hardness and the cold was uncomfortable and she knew she would be sore the next day.

* * *

><p>Two hours earlier<p>

It was just another meeting – America 'chairing' – his foghorn voice carrying further than the conference room to the three Baltics sat outside in the grounds.

"Well, I'm sticking a fork in this meeting because it's done!" the American said confidently.

"Who the bloody hell put you in charge?" England's voice was less loud but was indignant.

"Honhonhon, are you in charge then, mon l'Angleterre? Are you going to spank me if I am naughty?"

"You can just shut up, Francy-pants," England all but shrieked.

"I think the meeting has just broken up," Estonia said, wisely. "I'm off into the city to do a bit of business."

Latvia and Lithuania exchanged knowing glances, "Oh yes?" Lithuania said.

"Yes, see you later," Estonia replied and with that, pushed his glasses up his nose, picked up his briefcase and went inside the hotel to telephone for a taxi.

The meeting had indeed broken up. They heard England, France and America before they even saw them, "You can bugger off, you garlic-eating pervert, I'm not going back to any hotel room with you."

"Oh mon dieu! L'Angleterre! We have all afternoon, non? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going bloody drinking that is what I'm going to do. And not with you."

"I'll join you, Arty, wait for me!"

France approached the two Baltics. "Honhonhon, bonjour leetle Latvia and leetle Lithuania..."

"Hey! I'm as tall as you!" Lithuania exclaimed and stood up.

"Honhon, you are a fine specimen of a man, Toris. Are you busy?"

"Yes, I am."

"Really?" Francis looked around and raised an elegant eyebrow. "You are sitting here in ze sun, non? But it is very cold. We do not wish you to get cold? Perhaps I can warm you up?" Francis sidled onto the bench next to Latvia.

"I can show you the sights of Paris. It is magnificent. You will be very impressed by ze Eiffel Tower."

Latvia eased herself away from him as politely as she could.

A large shadow fell over them, blocking out the sun.

"France, are you bothering my little Baltics?" Russia's presence made the Paris winter temperature drop several degrees.

France bent his head back to look at the Russian who loomed up behind them, "Sacre bleu! Mon Russie! You startled me!"

Russia growled and said in a very low, dangerous voice, "You had better not be bothering my little Baltics, Francis. That would make me very angry."

Francis jumped up, "Of course not! I was just enquiring about their comfort, non? Leetle Latvia looks very cold."

Latvia shook her head frantically, "I'm fine, honestly."

"Yo, Liet! Hey Francis! Braginski! Cool meeting eh? England totally flipped," Poland wound his arms around Lithuania's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Russia growled at this also, "Feliks you are a bad man and you lead Lithuania astray," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Honhonhon, zat is very good..." Francis was delighted at this.

"Chill out, dude. Toris needs some downtime with me. Besides you promised, big dude. You said Toris could have the afternoon off with me."

All eyes turned to Russia (Lithuania's slightly hopeful, Feliks' confident, Francis' interested, Latvia's afraid).

"Nyet I did not."

Latvia gave a little sigh of relief.

"Yes you did. You cannot just go back on you word. Not cool, man. Don't dig that, dude. Chicks don't dig it."

Francis thought this hilarious, "Chicks?"

Poland mouthed to France "I'll fill you in later."

Lithuania shook his head frantically as he saw Latvia's frightened expression. She looked at him pleadingly, her big blue eyes clearly saying 'Please don't leave me with him'.

"Oh mon Russie, you should look after your employees, non? Then you will get the best out of them."

"Really?" Russia looked interested. Lithuania had been looking tired recently.

"Oui, but of course. I always treat my maids with utmost care and gentleness," he winked lewdly at Latvia.

Latvia blushed scarlet.

"You have maids?" Russia frowned and plonked himself down next to France.

"Oui, I recommend zem, non? You have a large one?"

"Wut?" Russia crossed his legs self-consciously.

"A large house, non?" France giggled but looked Russia up and down, his eyes lingering on Russia's nether regions – currently hidden under his knee-length coat.

"Da," Russia said, relieved.

"Zen you should have maids to clean it."

"I have little Latvia to clean my house," Russia waved a hand at her.

"Ah! But does leetle Latvia wear a maid's uniform?"

Poland sniggered, Lithuania looked absolutely appalled. Latvia blushed and stood up hurriedly, pulling her coat around her.

Russia blushed furiously, "Of course not!"

"Honhonhon, he would look very cute in such a uniform!"

Russia flustered and blustered, a purple haze forming around his shoulders.

Poland took this as his cue, "Come on Liet, Francis..."

"Ah la Pologne! We could go somewhere more comfortable, non? By the way, that skirt on you is adorable..."

"You don't get around me that easily, Francis, you big flirt."

"Erm I'd better stay here with Mr Russia and Latvia..." Lithuania said and tried to indicate with his eyes to his best friend the danger he felt Latvia was in.

"Aw Liet! I wanted your opinion on a new dress I was going to buy."

"I will help you choose some clothes... oh yes..." Francis linked his arm with the Pole's.

Poland leaned in to Toris and whispered, "Don't leave me with this lunk, Liet. He's had the hots for me since 1921 and to be honest, he's so not my type."

Russia waved Toris away, "Go, Lithuania. Have a nice afternoon. You should have a nice time with your friends."

Latvia shook her head and said hurriedly, "But Mr Russia... if there's another meeting in a bit you might need someone to take notes and Estonia..."

"Then you can help me, Latvia," Russia answered her. "Go now, Lithuania. Latvia and I are going to have a fun afternoon of our own."

"Hey, Braginski?" Poland said.

"Wut?"

"You're a top bloke."

"Da, I am!" Russia smiled and put his arm out and pulled Latvia down onto the bench next to him.

"Right, let's go people!" Feliks said and grabbed his two friends and headed off, chatting about what heels would go best with the dress he wanted, slapping France's hand away from his butt and waving his shoulder bag around.

Lithuania dragged his heels and looked over his shoulder at Latvia, "Sorry!" he mouthed at her.

Latvia shivered.

"So, little Latvia what shall we do?"

"Sir?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Erm... I like reading..."

"Nyet! You will not be reading. We will spend some time together. That will be fun, da?"

Latvia trembled. She avoided spending any time with Russia if she could help it. She kept her distance from him and kept her head down as much as possible. Actually spending time alone with him was a nightmare come true.

"You are cold, little Latvia?"

"A little bit, Sir."

"Erm, I know a way I can warm you up!" Russia said, a childish smile appeared on his face.

"Really, Sir?" Latvia thought furiously, could she come up with a sudden illness, a reason, any reason to get away?

"But you might not like it."

'I bet I don't,' she thought, 'Oh dear God, what is he thinking. It could be anything from practising his martial arts on me to invading Poland.'

"I never asked Estonia to do it."

'That's because Estonia was a clever bugger,' she thought. 'He never got caught in these situations. How on earth does he do it? He's a slippery customer. I must watch him and see how he does it'.

"... and sometimes Toris would do it, but he doesn't like it very much. He said it hurt. He said I went too fast."

Latvia was really scared now. Toris was much bigger and stronger than her and, despite his appearance was relatively tough, she felt as fragile as glass next to him. If it hurt Toris, she was in for an afternoon of pain.

"... and nobody else will do it with me... I don't know why..." Russia sighed and went off into a little reverie.

Latvia wasn't surprised at this – whatever 'it' was. All the Nations were terrified of Russia, besides his sisters of course. His presence alone could evoke dread and fear. A distinct chill hung around him.

"Mr Russia... I don't think that I..."

"Don't worry, little Latvia. I will take care of you," Russia said, suddenly breaking out of his little daydream. There was sadness in his eyes. "I usually do it alone. But it's always better with someone else."

Latvia tried desperately to think what he was talking about. He clearly assumed she knew what _it _was. She just hoped to God it wasn't... it wouldn't be would it?

"You have probably never done it?"

"Sir?"

"It does not matter. I will teach you. Don't worry little Latvia. I will go very slow."

Latvia squeaked with fear, "Sir! I think you should know that I'm..." she hesitated. Surely now was the time to tell him...

Russia stood up and pulled her up next to him, "Never mind! Come on, Latvia. You might find it very cold and hard at first, but then it gets better!" Clearly, she was given no choice in the matter.

* * *

><p>Latvia found herself closer to Russia than she'd ever been. Her knees were shaking and resembled jelly. They'd already swapped positions a few times, but she found it easier if they were face to face, having Russia holding her from behind was just too creepy, she preferred to see his face – his wide childish grin of pure joy actually reassuring her a little. He held both her hands this time, his much larger ones dwarfing hers. She'd preferred her hands on his shoulders – it gave her greater balance, however, Russia said this was easier if she fell. "Bend your knees, Latvia," he instructed her.<p>

Their breaths misted in the cold clear air, Russia started to slide backward and she followed him, her ice-skates gliding forward. "Use your knees, Raivis, it makes it easier," Russia told her. She nodded but it was all she could to stay upright. She thought that if it weren't for Russia's strong hands holding her up she would be flat on her back on the ice.

She'd spent the first thirty minutes clinging to Russia, her hands gripping his coat as he practically pulled her around the rink. His cheeks were pink, his eyes wide with joy as he glided around and round. For someone who was so big – over six feet tall and over 200 pounds, he was surprisingly graceful. He made it look effortless and she only wished she could move like that. Several times she stumbled and twice she landed on her bottom when his coat slipped out of her hands. He picked her up, gently dusted her off, tilted her chin up and smiled into her bewildered face and then grabbed her around the waist so that he was behind her and literally pushed her around the rink, his scarf fluttering behind him.

"It's fun, da?" he said bending down and whispering into her ear.

She nodded, actually it was fun – in a strange, exciting, 'you could break your ankle any moment' kind of way. And Russia's large solid frame to cling to did make it almost fun.

"Aw, poor Raivis," Russia said, laughing as she fell awkwardly on her bottom again. He spun past her, annoyingly graceful.

Couples and children slid past her and she struggled to stand up, her skates slid away from her and she did the splits.

"Ow!" she said and tears formed in her eyes.

Russia skidded back to her, sending a spray of ice up into the air, concern in his eyes. "Oooh, that is not good, nyet? Not good for little boys to do the splits?"

He picked her up. She shoved his hands away with a sudden spurt of anger, 'bloody big idiot,' she thought, 'I'm fed up of this'.

"Haha!" Russia thought this funny, "Raivis is getting angry? Hormones? That is what happens in puberty..."

Latvia managed to get her skates and her feet to work and, wobbling up to him, jabbed him in the chest, "Stop calling me a boy, I'm a..." but before she could say any more, Russia slid an arm around her waist and side by side they glided around the ice.

"I know, I know, okay, you are a man... although sometimes... it is very funny but you look like a girl!" Russia laughed, thinking this was hilarious.

Latvia shook her head, 'one day, you big loon, I'm going to give you such a bloody shock,' she thought. 'God, I need a bloody big drink.' The latter thought she blurted out loud.

Russia laughed at this, "Haha! We will go and have a vodka! Vodkaaaa!" he yelled as they skated faster and faster. Or should one say, he skated faster and faster, whilst Latvia clung to his waist desperately.

* * *

><p>A few hours later – the hotel bar<p>

"We had a brilliant afternoon! I bought a gorgeous red dress, didn't I, Liet?" Poland said.

"Yes, you did..." Lithuania sank down in a chair, took off his shoes and rubbed his tired feet.

"Where is France?" Russia asked and then added as the said Nation staggered in, "Oh there he is!"

France slumped into a chair, "My word, Pol, you know how to shop, I am exhausted..." The Frenchman indicated a bottle of champagne to the barman and then turned to Russia and Latvia who were sat on adjoining bar stools, "Honhonhon, 'ow are you two? Did you have a good afternoon, non?"

"Yes, we did!" Russia's cheeks were still pink and his eyes shone, "But we got tired."

"Honhonhon, did you now?"

"Da. We had to stop because little Raivis was out of breath."

France's eyes were wide as saucers.

Lithuania looked up in shock and he looked at Raivis questioningly.

Latvia, who was pretty pissed at Lithuania for leaving her with 'the big idiot', decided not to let him go so easily.

"Yes, it was very tiring. But Mr Russia was ever so good. It was easier when I held on to him though."

France was almost falling off his stool, he poured a glass of champagne, his mouth open completely agog.

"Da, but little Raivis was a fast learner," Russia continued, completely oblivious to the stares.

"Oh, thank you, Sir," Latvia smiled and sipped her vodka.

"Da, you were better than Toris."

Lithuania frowned at this and looked at Latvia worriedly.

Poland looked at Lithuania, then at Russia and then back at Latvia, complete confusion on his face.

"Thank you, Sir. But I'm going to be sore tomorrow," Latvia said and then she winked surreptitiously at France.

"Mon dieu!"

Lithuania shook his head, saw the wink and then finally caught on when he saw Latvia brush ice from the back of her pants.

"Little Latvia does not complain like you do, Toris. And he is much lighter than you to carry around."

Poland was having none of this, "Hey!" he said, "Like, Liet's mine..."

"Oooh a love triangle!" France was entranced.

"That is okay, Polska. I will not do it with Toris again. I'm going to train little Latvia up. He will get really good after a few more sessions," Russia said, his eyes gleamed. A wide innocent smile adorned his face.

"Ooooh, mon dieu!" France was beside himself, "Perhaps, you know – you and me, Ivan?" France said in his most seductive voice, daringly using Russia's human name.

Russia frowned at this, "I do not think so, France. You do not look flexible enough."

France spluttered his champagne, "Flexible? I do not agree, I am very flexible. Oh yes..."

"I do not trust your hands, Mr France..." Russia shuddered, having had 'experience' of France's wandering hands one Christmas...

France was severely disappointed, "Oooh mon ange..." he said, "We could have so much fun."

Latvia downed the rest of her vodka in one smooth movement and jumped off her stool. As she passed France she leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "It was really good, Monsieur France. Mr Russia is really big and strong. He goes really fast and if you don't keep up, you end up on the floor." She then grinned to herself and went up to her hotel bedroom to have a much needed hot bath.

France almost swooned.

Lithuania shook his head and tutted. He would be having words with that girl later.

Poland turned to Lithaunia and said, "What just happened?"

Russia, completely and utterly oblivious, ordered himself another vodka.

Some people have such dirty minds...

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: 1921 – the signing of the Franco-Polish alliance<strong>

**Just a little extra I wrote whilst watching the European Figure Skating Competition – and Evegni Plushenko had just won Gold.**

**By the way I can't skate for toffee (the only time I went on the ice me and my friend spent the whole time clinging to each other as 5 year olds skidded past shoving us...) – but perhaps if I had a tall blond Russian to teach me...**


	3. Cold

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the genius of Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited (and PM'd me) and gave me inspiration to carry on:** **Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx, Vengeful Cat.**

**Warnings: The usual – sexual innuendo**

Chapter 3 - Cold

Leningrad, Russia – December 1979 Late pm

Latvia held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Why oh why did she always get herself into these situations? Estonia never did, and even Lithuania had gotten out of this one. She sat on the flimsy-looking sledge, Russia sat behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her waist, his long legs either side of hers so she was sat between them, her knees drawn up to her chin. Russia counted "Одна Две Три" and before he'd even got to three and with a huge yell of "водка". They went careering wildly down the hill – which to Latvia's horror was at least a one in three incline. She screamed all the way down, they narrowly missed an over-excited Labrador until they came tumbling off at the bottom, Russia landing on her with a 'Wumph!" She elbowed him off her.

Russia laughed uproariously and shoved snow in her face, "Hahaha, Raivis, you are such a girl! Man up and get back on that sledge!" he laughed, wrapping his scarf more securely around his neck. She glared at him, re-arranged her Ushanka, brushed the snow off her backside and glared at Lithuania who was stood out of the way chatting to a group of mums who'd congregated to watch their children. She and Russia were the only adults sledging. 'Well, that figured,' she thought.

Russia shoved her back on the sledge and pulled her, together with another child's fully-laden sledge back up the hill, whistling happily. It was now a beautiful day, the sky was a clear, azure blue and although it was cold (Russia's breath crystallizing in the air) the snow was powdery soft and deep. Russia knew all about snow, it wasn't quite compact and icy enough for sledging but it would suffice. The snowman they'd helped the children to make – a huge two metre high monstrosity (Russia had insisted on it being the biggest), which had a Red Army fur hat adorning its head, had crumbled a little at the edges.

Russia wondered what the ever-present KGB – hovering at the edge of the park watching their Nation through binoculars – would make of it all. Russia didn't care frankly. He was out in the snow with a bunch of kids and his precious Baltics (he loved children, and animals, it was people who he had an aversion to, particularly certain western Nations). Although Lithuania was chatting to some mothers on a bench – 'What a lady's man,' Russia thought a little enviously and Estonia was talking seriously with a bunch of dads. Only his little Latvia seemed happy to 'play', and in that Ushanka with the padded winter coat the young Nation reminded him of someone but, much as he scoured his shattered and fragmented memories, he couldn't think who.

"Yay! Mr Braginski is so cool!" one of the children yelled, as they neared the top of the hill, Russia barely out of breath, "Is he your Dad?" one of the children asked Latvia.

Latvia shook her head hurriedly, "He is not," she said with much conviction and then said with a groan, "I hate my life," as the large Russian got on the sledge behind her, grasping her waist and shuffling her forward, "Move up, Raivis," he said, "Let me get on," before they hurtled down the hill again at top speed.

The day had not started out like this. In fact there'd been a series of misadventures and near misses. Russia had come as close as the hair on a gnat's head to finding out she was a girl. Latvia still trembled when she thought about it.

* * *

><p>Several hours earlier<p>

"Kolkolkol," Russia's voice echoed and bounced off the old walls of mansion and the ancient house seemed to fling them back at the hiding Baltics. Russia charged through the house, his patience wearing thin, his metal pipe clanging against brick, breaking plaster (the Baltics were forever redecorating), paintings bounced on their hangings. "Toris! Eduard! Raivis!" Russia called, "Time to come out. Come out, come out wherever you are!"

When he'd been the one to hide, the time it had taken _them _to find him had been tortuously long. He could have invaded and annexed Poland in that time. Ridiculous. He was now convinced that they hadn't been as zealous as he was when he was the 'seeker'.

The snow was now well up to the level of the windowsill. Having snowed for much of the night, Russia had watched it with interest from his bedroom window, cuddled up under a blanket with Mr Pipe, Russi-cat and a bottle of vodka, he berated General Winter severely. The wind blew stronger around the house and Russia could feel Winter's cold fingers reaching for him through gaps in the windows and doors. He shivered again and went into the library to get another bottle of vodka, dropping the empty one in the bin as he went.

He found a half-empty one on the desk, but started to panic when he realised, with mounting horror that it was the last one. He hurried to the shelves. He picked up a copy of the 'Kama Sutra' that France had given him which Russia had found embarrassingly disturbing, his cheeks blushing red, but it was useful to hide his stash behind.

He remembered, his cheeks flaming red, the day France had given it to him. He'd opened the book, completely unaware of what it contained (he was under the impression it would be a useful account of Asian customs) and slammed it shut again. He peeked again, as France told him that "It will teach you the art of l'amour, non?" and had held it at various angles, trying to gauge how on earth one was supposed to...

Russia had lived many centuries and had done many things (Empress Catherine II had taught him a few things), however, nothing had prepared him for some of the images. So, there the book remained and he chose it as a cover for his secret stash, in the belief that his Baltics and his sisters would never take the book down. He was wrong.

Empty vodka bottles stared back (well, not exactly _stared_). Russia let out a yowl which echoed through the house and slammed the hated book back.

Hidden in the pantry, Lithuania was tidying up. He'd been in there for near on thirty minutes and could hear Russia stomping around. It was only a matter of time before he was found, but he'd decided he might as well wipe the shelves down and sort out the spices first.

Estonia was hidden in his usual hiding place in Russia's study under the desk. Despite this being the only place he hid (this was Estonia's only acquiescence to the 'game'), Russia always expressed surprise each time he 'found' him, the Russian's short-term and long-term memory problems giving Ivan the disadvantage.

Latvia was probably the only one, apart from Russia's intense competitiveness, who took it seriously. Being small and slender, she could get into places no-one would have dreamt of. The only give-away was often Russi-cat who kept vigil outside whichever room she was in.

Russia, forgetting the game, strode to the front door and flung it open. He was met by a wall of snow at least waist high. It was as if General Winter himself was mocking him.

Russia attempted to dive in and wade through it. But got himself stuck and then threw himself back out and into the hallway covered in snow. If it were waist high on him it would bury his little Baltics he thought. He wondered if it were possible to wade through, go around to the back garden, get his spade and then shovel them out. He was good at digging and shovelling. Bitter memories came back to him of building the White Sea-Baltic Canal, together with memories of a big clod telling him that they'd made a mistake in the plans. The big clod had not lived to see another day.

"Toris! I found you!" Russia shouted for the sixth time as he flung open door after door. He was getting angrier and angrier now. Finally he stomped into the kitchen, flung a saucepan at the sink and then turned to the pantry door...

"Toris!" he shouted as he flung it open.

Lithuania, who had heard Russia's massive boots stomping up and down the hallway, acted surprise. "Sir! You found me! Wow! And I thought I hid so well... Have you found Eduard yet?" he asked, after all, he thought, why should that slippery Estonian get away with it?

Russia's eyes widened, his anger subsided, "Ooooh, Esty..." and he stomped off again. He'd already flung open his study door and had failed to see Estonia's legs sticking out obviously from under the desk.

"We have to go shopping, Toris, I have run out of vodka," he told Toris, who followed him warily.

"Shit..." Toris exclaimed and then slapped a hand over his mouth. How the hell had that happened?

"You did not buy my vodka when you went shopping, Toris?" Russia's voice was soft as silk but there was an underlying edge of steel to it as he slammed open another door, "Raivis?" he called, hopefully.

Toris knew that he definitely had bought it – it was the first thing to go in the trolley, Russia's week's supply of vodka. Had he drunk it already? This could be very bad.

"Sir, perhaps if I go shopping and get you some..." Toris thought frantically.

"Nyet, you cannot go out," Russia answered and leapt, ninja-style into the living room. No-one there.

Toris frowned at this. They can't go out? They were prisoners? He felt a wave of panic washing over him. This is it, he thought, possessive and protective at the best of times, but Russia had never kept them in the house before and forbidden them from leaving, not explicitly. Lithuania went through his options. There were rifles in the basement if he could get access to them, but that would mean getting the ammunition loaded and it would take more than one bullet to stop Russia. He doubted if, when it came to it, unless Latvia was in real physical danger, he could shoot at his boss anyway.

Russia slammed his pipe against the doorjamb, shattering the wood, glugged the rest of his vodka and threw the bottle on the floor. "Estoniaaaaa!" he yelled. This game was annoying him now. Perhaps they could play chess?

Estonia got up, thankful the 'game' was over. His left leg had gone to sleep. Honestly, what was it with the big idiot? Why can his boss never remember where he hid. It was so obvious, it was where Eduard spent much of his waking life – in the study at Russia's desk (not under it though, obviously).

"Sir?" he said, appearing in the doorway.

"We are going to play chess and maybe cards... poker, da," and then Russia added, helpfully with a sidelong look at Lithuania, "I have no vodka."

Estonia and Lithuania exchanged looks.

Vodka did make everything better. Russia's mood usually eased the more he drank, before he lapsed into unconsciousness. Estonia found it easier to get money off him at poker, Lithuania could put his feet up a little and relax and Latvia could, for a while, not have to think about deepening her voice and acting 'boyish'.

Estonia went into the kitchen, switched on the kettle, glanced at the snow banked up against the window and then started to set up a chess-set on the table.

"I'll be white and you black, Sir?" he called to Russia.

Russia ignored him, "But I have not found little Latvia."

Lithuania tried, unsuccessfully to steer him into the kitchen, "Sir, I've made some nice chocolate chip cookies just for you," he said in his most soothing voice. If vodka was out of the question, then a healthy dose of lithium-spiked cookies would.

Russia hesitated, he did so like Lithuania's cookies. But then he snapped out of it, "But little Latvia might be frightened. I have to find him," he said.

He shoved Lithuania into the kitchen, "You stay there and don't go out. Whatever you do. Or you will get hurt. Very badly. It will be very bad for little Baltics to go out!" he told them. Four foot of snow would surely bury them, he thought, not good. He, Russia could easily survive a snowdrift, but they were only little Nations.

Estonia and Lithuania could only sit and shiver at the kitchen table.

"He's holding us prisoner!" Estonia whispered, but in an indignant whispering voice.

"I know..."

"What the hell does he mean we'll get hurt? Is he threatening us?"

"I don't know..."

"Don't go out?"

"I know..."

"We should fight back," Estonia said.

Lithuania, who had his head in his hands, looked up, alarmed, "What? Are you kidding?"

"Well... perhaps if we both sneak up on him, when he's not looking..." Estonia broke off, not one for fighting, the thought of actually hitting Russia was not one he really wanted to think about.

"Are you bloody serious? He'll pound us into dust. And then what about Latvia?"

They'd kept Latvia's gender a secret from Russia, fearing his possessiveness of her would take on a new and more sinister connotation if he was aware she was a rare female Nation.

Russia made his way upstairs, completely unaware of his Baltics' trepidation. His tactics this time were much quieter and softer. He crept along the upper storey landing and carefully opened each door before creeping in and looking in every nook and cranny. Latvia was the champion hider and it was rare that he managed to find her without help from Russi-cat or Lithuania. Once they'd found her crammed in the airing cupboard, asleep and looking most adorable like a little dormouse.

Latvia was actually hiding where she really shouldn't be, and if Toris and Eduard knew they would have had several heart attacks – each. Ukraine would no doubt find it hilarious and Belarus would ... well that should be left to an M rated story.

It was her best hiding place ever, no-one but no-one would ever think that she would hide there – in Ivan's bed. At first she'd got under the bed, found some old socks, several faucet pipes, cat hairs and empty bottles of vodka, but then she'd got cold, her back had started aching, so then she'd daringly got into his bed. It was so big and warm and she snuggled right down under the covers. 'They would never find me,' she thought, 'Who on earth will even think of looking here? I'll give myself up in a few hours'. And then, because the mattress was so soft and seemed to mould around her, the blankets smelling of vodka and sunflowers, she'd been lulled into sleep.

Russia didn't think to look in his own bed. He'd looked everywhere, even in the most incongruous places which would have required Latvia to be double-jointed or some kind of acrobat.

He gave up, frowning and stomped back downstairs, much annoyed.

Latvia slept on.

* * *

><p>Chocolate-chip lithium-laced cookies did their job some half an hour later, along with a calming game of chess. It was only when a snowball smashed against the window that Russia, sleepiness starting to overcome him, jolted up and he realised there was a way they could get out and go shopping for his precious vodka.<p>

To Lithuania and Estonia's incredulity, he scrambled onto the sink, pushed open the window and climbed out – to be hit by another snowball.

Russia jumped down into the snowdrift and waved at his Baltics to follow.

Estonia was about to staunchly refuse, but Lithuania was already handing him his coat. "Come on, let's just keep him quiet."

"Hey Mister! I bet you can't beat us at snowballs!" came a yell from the next door neighbour's garden.

Lithuania looked over to see who had dared issue such a challenge. A bunch of monkey-like boys were sat atop the garden wall that separated the properties and all were armed with snowballs.

Another snowball hit Russia in the head.

Lithuania winced, carnage would surely follow.

Actually it didn't. Well, not exactly.

A volley of well-aimed, hard-hitting snowballs were launched by Russia at the children. One yelped and fell off the wall, whilst two others dived for cover. The Russian dived behind the garden shed and starting renewing his 'ammunition'.

"Toris! Over here! Quick, before they get you!" he yelled.

Toris sighed, 'Just how old were they? Really? This was all a bit demeaning surely for Nations. He was centuries old, as was Russia. Shouldn't they show more dignity and decorum?' he thought. 'And where the hell was Estonia? How did he get out of this?'

A snowball hit the Lithuanian squarely on the head. This was followed by another on his arse.

Toris turned to glare at the miscreants, his years as a great warrior in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, evident in his bearing. It did no good. Another snowball hit him square in the face and Russia yelled, "Over here, Toris quick and I'll cover you!" and the big Russian started to counter-attack.

Toris refused to run. He absolutely refused to lower himself to that level. However, he paid heartily for the decision as he was pelted mercilessly by the hooligans as he now termed them. Russian children, he decided as he crouched next to Russia, brushing the snow from his hair and his back, were as hard as their parents.

"This is war," Russia said, his voice hard and cold.

Lithuania shivered, he'd heard Russia say that so many times, and it never ended well – usually for his opponent(s).

Actually, this time it did end well.

"Will you come sledging with us later, Mister?" the boys called.

"Da, I will!" Russia called back, waving to them happily, "Come and call for me later."

"Nice boys eh?" Russia said, smacking Lithuania on the back, nearly sending the smaller Nation into the snow again.

Lithuania did not agree, he was cold, wet and he'd been pelted so many times with snowballs at one time he'd almost disappeared under the onslaught. Russia had found this very funny and had finally hauled him out of the snowdrift he'd fell in, but only after laughing so hard that he'd been doubled up.

'I hate my life,' Lithuania thought as he trudged back towards the house and then found himself lifted up into Russia's arms (he hated being carried by the large Russian, it felt so... unmanly) and almost thrown in through the window.

"Well, I'll just make tea," Estonia said, an eyebrow arched as he took in Lithuania's blue lips and uncontrollable shaking.

'How did Eduard do it?' Lithuania thought, 'How did that little know-it-all get away with it?'

Russia, still on a high ('surely, lithium should make him sleepy, not hyper-active,' Lithuania thought as he dried himself), began shovelling snow away from the door, singing a rather bawdy Red Army soldier song as he did so.

It was another hour of hard shovelling before Russia had cleared both the back door and the front door, cleared the pathway and the driveway. He stomped in, shaking the snow from his coat like a huge dog and announced he was off to bed for a snooze. (The sun had set on the far-eastern part of Russia, so the large Arctic Nation also felt sleepy.)

Russia had learnt about afternoon siestas from a visit to the Italy brothers, however, they hadn't seemed so enthusiastic about his offers to be friends with them, he wondered why that was for a moment, his head tilted to one side and then he shook the memory away and went upstairs.

Russia loved his bed, it was very big and very warm with the softest mattress and thick, warm blankets. Russi-cat was laid on it, purring loudly. The large feline had obviously been having a 'cat moment' and had thrown itself around the bed in a frenzy because the covers were scrunched up and there was a mound in the middle. Russia undressed down to his boxers and t-shirt, thought about taking off his scarf but decided not to. It was too cold. And then climbed into bed. Within a few minutes of his head hitting the pillow, he was fast asleep

Latvia woke with a start, in total darkness beneath the blankets, forgetting for a moment where she was. Her back was pressed against something very big and very warm, and she snuggled back against it and prepared to go back to sleep and then realisation hit her.

She stifled a scream as she felt Russia's heavy breathing next to her. He shuffled his broad back against hers and gave a sigh.

Latvia carefully and slowly lifted her head above the blankets and peered around. Sure enough, there was the beige-blond head of her boss, the rest of him hidden under the covers, curled up with his back to her. She started to move as she heard his breathing settle and then stopped as she realised the buttons of her tunic were undone and her white lacy bra was showing.

If she leapt out, Russia would surely wake up and find her almost half-dressed, in his bed and... she wasn't sure she wanted to think any more down _that _avenue. However, she couldn't stay here all day. She tried to fasten the buttons but her movements disturbed the big Nation and he stirred, rolled over and flung one large muscular arm over her and then snored loudly in her face. She winced, she was now in a worse position.

Then the door opened and her saviour walked in.

"Sir! Those kids have come to call for you..." Lithuania stopped in utter horror. Latvia was in a state of undress. In Russia's bed. With Russia. And she looked scared.

He didn't, at first register that Russia was actually asleep, he just registered Russia's arm flung around the smaller Nation, Latvia's pleading 'help me' look and assumed the absolute worst.

"Sir! Get your hands off her!" he yelled.

Russia woke with a start, his hair on end (thankfully, other parts of him weren't) and leapt out of bed scrambling for his pipe.

"Wut?" he said.

Latvia took advantage of this, did her buttons up quickly and jumped out of bed, smoothing down her unruly hair and trying to look as boyish as possible.

"Wut?" Russia said again, he was alarmed, terrified even. He stared around the room with bleary eyes looking for Belarus. Awful mental images of handcuffs, whips and manacles assaulted his senses.

"Ooooh," Lithuania relaxed when Latvia, mouthed and mimed her predicament to him. Her actions completely missed by the oblivious Russian.

"Raivis!" Russia was delighted when he saw his littlest Baltic and relieved that it wasn't his little sister, "I found you!"

"Yes, Sir. I was hiding here all the time," she said, edging towards Lithuania.

Russia pulled her into a big hug and glared at Lithuania, "You should stop calling him a her, Toris. That is bullying."

Lithuania, still clutching his heart, 'He's going to be the death of me,' he thought, just said quietly, "Those children have called for you, Sir. They asked if you were coming out to play."

"Da! Tell them I am," Russia said happily, pulling on his clothes.

Lithuania sagged with relief - finally, some peace and quiet.

"And you are all coming with me!" Russia added happily.

**Author's Notes:**

**I wrote this having just been sledging with my friend and her kids – and I thought I would love to go sledging with Russia and the Baltics**

**Одна Две Три - one, two, three in Russian**

**Водка – vodka in Russian**

**White Sea Canal – built from manual labour by Gulag prisoners (around 100,000 died in its construction) and to finish it early (it took only 20 months) they only dug to a depth of 12 feet, which meant it couldn't be used for larger vessels.**

**The Kama Sutra – an ancient Hindu text, a large portion of which is a manual on sexual positions. However, what a lot of people don't realise it also contains a lot of poetry and lessons on etiquette (I bet nobody reads it for the poetry).**

**Hide and seek – I've seen loads of fanfics with Russia playing hide and seek with the Baltics and it never ends well, so I thought I'd do my own version, along with some snowball fights and fluff.**

**Feel free to comment/review.**


	4. Gas

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd:** **LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx.**

**This is loosely based on Hetalia Episode 42 – a kind of 'behind the scenes' and 'what happened next' scenario**

**Warnings: Belarus (briefly), mentions of bodily functions**

Chapter 4 – Gas

Sometime in the late 1970s

Russia poked Latvia in the cheek, "I know your little secret, Latvia," he told her, "You Baltics all think you have been very clever..."

"S...S...Sir? I don't know what you mean?" Latvia trembled.

Russia giggled creepily, "You thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you, Latvia? My little Baltics think I am stupid and I don't notice... but I notice lots of things."

Latvia started to panic, "S...S... Sir?" she squeaked and then 'squeaked' in a lower octave, "Sir?"

"You can't fool me, Latvia. I know all about it... I'm not angry, but I have to make some demands of you..."

Latvia almost fainted.

* * *

><p>Earlier that day<p>

"But why do I have to go?" Latvia wailed.

"Oh Raivis, it's time you got out of this house, I'm busy and Estonia has business to attend to."

It was true, the 'slippery' Estonian had a business deal to 'close' with 'clients' in Helsinki – he'd told Russia it was a boring meeting that he didn't need to attend – Russia, grateful for his subordinate's efficiency hadn't bothered to enquire further.

"I don't want to go," Latvia continued.

"Well, you're going. The boss asked you to go with him. It's only for one day, you'll be back this evening and it will be nice for you to see Miss Ukraine."

"Why can't he go on his own?"

"Because he'll forget where he's going or he'll get on the wrong plane and end up in Berlin which could end very badly, or he'll get drunk and pass out in a dumpster somewhere like last time and end up on a garbage boat in the middle of the Mariinsk Canal."

"I still don't see why..."

"Latviaaaa!" came a booming voice from the hallway, "We're leaving..."

She looked up, and then, dragging her feet, left the kitchen, looking back at Lithuania with the most hang-dog expression she could muster.

Lithuania shook his head, wiped his hands, prepared the finishing touches on the cake he'd made and then went to the front door to watch as Russia threw his briefcase into the back seat of the car and jumped into the driver's seat. Latvia was sat in the passenger seat with a look on her face as if she was on her way to visit the dentist.

"Bye Toris. Be good, we'll be back soon!" Russia called.

Toris waved at them, slammed the door shut and danced around the hallway. He had the whole house to himself for a whole day! Pol will be here any minute and he could spend some quality time relaxing without Russia calling them a pair of 'gay weirdos', Latvia worrying that Pol will find out she was a girl (they didn't quite trust Pol and his huge mouth with the truth) or Estonia trying to extract money from his best friend.

In the car, it had started...

"Where are we going, Raivis?"

"Kiev, Sir." 'Honestly,' she thought, 'he has the memory of a goldfish'.

"Oooh, Katya! I hope Bela isn't there..."

"So do I, Sir." Latvia said, before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Russia laughed, "My little sister frightens you, Mr Latvia?"

She nodded, Russia's little sister scared everyone. However, Belarus in the frightening stakes was only second behind Russia's driving.

Latvia screamed, very girlishly, as Russia flung the car around a corner, and then slammed the brakes on at a pedestrian crossing. He stopped the car within a hair's breadth of a woman and a pram crossing the road.

He patted her knee affectionately, "You should calm down, Raivis. Estonia is a very bad passenger as well. I do not know why. Sometimes he says he feels sick if he does not drive." Russia slammed the car into gear as the lights turned to green and they skidded off, wheels spinning, "But I like to drive, it is fun, nyet?"

Latvia shook her head, she didn't think it was 'fun' at all.

The most frightening non-fun aspect was the fact that he was now steering with his knees whilst lighting a cigarette, his blond head dipping below the dashboard to find the cigarette lighter, so he wasn't even looking at the other cars – who were all flashing their lights and honking their horns at him as the large black Volga veered across the carriageway.

Russia looked up, a lighted cigarette in his mouth and waved at the other drivers, "Privet!" he called as Leningrad's motorists honked and flashed at him. "People are so friendly, da?" he said to Latvia, whose eyes were tightly shut.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, it wasn't far to the airport. However, when Latvia climbed out of the car, she felt sick. The car was abandoned – which was really the only word that could describe Russia's parking attempt – across two parking spaces, diagonally. Russia smiled happily, threw his briefcase at Latvia and then bounced along towards the terminal building – he loved airports and aeroplanes and found the whole idea of flying fascinating. He wasn't wholly convinced about the physics of it, believing instead it was some kind of magic that kept the large 'metal birds' in the air.<p>

Security was, for once, Latvia noted, a simple affair. She handed the KGB border guards their identity cards, Russia gazing around him with a blank, spacey expression, and they were waved through – the guards saluting Russia as he passed through the security barrier. Latvia expected it to light up like a Christmas tree and she wasn't disappointed. Russia grinned happily, "It always does this for me!" he said, thinking that it meant he was 'special' in some way.

Latvia had a quiet word with the guards, (as instructed by Lithuania) who took a more careful look at Russia's passport and papers, whilst the latter (with a blissful smile on his face) walked backwards and forwards through the security barrier sending the device into fits of flashing lights and wailing alarms. By the sixth walkthrough, one of the KGB guards put a hand on Russia's arm and earned himself a dangerous growl and a shove from the large Nation.

"Sir, we can through now," Latvia said nervously as the KGB guard picked himself up. His colleague was on the radio calling for possible back-up to deal with General Braginski.

"Oooooh!" Russia said and, with remarkable docility, and followed the smaller Nation through to the departure lounge. "I like airports," Russia told her.

Latvia glanced at the list of instructions Lithuania had written out for her.

_ Make sure the KGB see all the papers – it gives him special treatment for security_

_ He loves the security barrier and the more it lights up the happier he will be_

_ Make sure he has at least half a bottle of vodka or he will be unmanageable_

_ Don't give him caffeine or he won't sit down for the whole flight_

_ If you hear/see any Germans in the vicinity, steer him towards the crèche/play area – the children will calm him down, or take him to watch the aeroplanes taking off_

_ Don't leave him unattended at any time – if he goes to the toilet, go with him (Latvia winced at that, she hated using the men's loo and always made sure she got in a cubicle for obvious reasons)_

_ Give him the aisle seat, then he can spread his legs out and if you're lucky he'll go to sleep_

_ Instruct the stewardesses not to give him:_

_ Any sweets (they make him hyper)_

_ Coffee (as mentioned) _

_ A newspaper (he might forget he's in public and start shouting about other Nations, especially if he sees some news about China)_

_ Remember to call him Ivan and insist he calls you Raivis – don't forget you're in public_

Latvia was actually annoyed at these instructions. Honestly, did they think she was stupid? And anyone would think she was babysitting a four year old child, not escorting a 1000 year old Nation who'd fought more wars than she'd had hot dinners. It was ridiculous.

"I can hear Germans..." Russia growled.

Shit. Latvia took his arm, "Sir, come with me," she said and steered him away quickly. She looked around wildly and then saw the sign for the children's crèche and headed there, "Sir, come this way, and I'll buy you a vodka."

"Really?" Russia followed blindly but kept looking behind him, his violet eyes narrowing... he hoped there were no Germans in his Motherland or he would kick their arses all the way back to Berlin.

Toris was correct, the sights and sounds of children playing did calm the Russian. He sat at a nearby table, happily drinking vodka and watched with a smile on his face.

"I would like to have kids some day, Raivis. What about you?" Russia asked her.

Latvia considered this and was about to answer when Russia said, "Do you think you will be a father some day?"

Latvia almost choked on her coffee and said in a very definite voice, "No, Sir. I am absolutely sure I will never be a father."

"Tut tut, Raivis. Children are our future."

* * *

><p>An hour and a half flight was too long, Latvia decided. Russia had sat in the aisle seat and he had, thankfully, fallen asleep, but he'd snored throughout the whole flight – the sounds drowning out the engine noise. However, this was better than their conversation beforehand:<p>

"There are no parachutes!"

This was not a comment everyone needed to hear and the rest of the passengers looked around nervously.

"No, Ivan, we don't need them."

"But suppose I need to jump out?"

"You won't need to jump out..." Latvia wondered whether she should mention they weren't in the middle of a War – _that _War – but mentioning the War could bring its own problems.

Russia considered this, "I bet I could fly this plane."

Latvia doubted this very much, the man had trouble driving a car in a straight line. "Ivan, perhaps you should just relax? We'll be there soon."

"Hmmm..."

The air stewardess had caused more hassle by asking Russia if he wanted her to put his coat and scarf away in a locker. Latvia had thought it was a reasonable request as it was June and Russia was still dressed for the depths of a Russian winter. However, Russia was horrified at the idea, and clung to his scarf and glared at the poor woman, puffing out his pale cheeks, "I can't take off my scarf," he told her, "I might get cold!"

The air stewardess had looked at Latvia in sympathy. Latvia inclined her head towards Russia to indicate that said individual had 'problems' and the air stewardess, seemingly content that Latvia was his 'carer', walked on.

* * *

><p>Kiev, Ukraine<p>

Latvia liked Kiev. It was nice to be outside of Russia and it seemed warmer here than in Leningrad. An elegant city, she thought, with lovely buildings. She liked Leningrad but Leningrad to her meant servitude and loss of freedom. She sighed again as they got in a taxi. Russia, thankfully, was quiet.

"It's a beautiful city isn't it, Ivan?" she asked, carefully, breaking the silence. (She couldn't quite get used to calling him by his human name.)

"Da, it is, but it was destroyed by the Mongols in the 12 hundred and ..." Russia scoured his memory for the exact date.

"Never mind..." Latvia said lamely.

"1240...no 1230...maybe it was 1250... I can't remember. But it was a Thursday..."

"Well..." Latvia tried to think of something to say to this and wished Toris and Eduard were there, they always knew what to say. She just hoped Russia wasn't going to regress back to his memories of the Mongol invasion. The very dates blew her mind - she hadn't even been born then.

"They were very bad people..." Russia twitched and then his hand went to his neck and he fiddled with his scarf tentatively.

"Well that was then, this is now. It's a beautiful city, now." Latvia emphasised the 'now' and wished the taxi would hurry up to Ukraine's house before Russia went into full reminiscing mode.

She dug into her pocket for the emergency bottle of vodka that Lithuania had insisted she carried and handed it to him.

Russia took it from her, his violet eyes had misted over and his hands were shaking a little and took a huge gulp. It seemed to steady him because his next comment was fairly normal, "Do you think we can go to the zoo later?" he asked her.

"Erm, well... I suppose... you're in charge, Sir," Latvia answered.

"I am? Oh yes I am."

* * *

><p>Finally (and not soon enough for Latvia) they arrived at Ukraine's house. A small farmhouse on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by potato fields, chickens running free in the yard, cows and horses and a large tractor stood next to the barn.<p>

Russia paid the taxi driver and got out.

Latvia followed and they stood in the warm sunshine, surveying their surroundings. Latvia thought it all looked very rustic and peaceful. Russia had narrowed his eyes, his large nose was twitching – not out of displeasure – he liked farm-life, tractors etc but he was wary that his little sister was about to leap out at any moment with a pair of handcuffs and a marriage contract. If she knew he was visiting Katya she would surely be there and she could be hiding around any corner.

Latvia stepped forward and was about to knock on Katya's door, when Russia put a restraining hand on her arm and shook his head. He put his hand in his coat and brought out Mr Pipe. He couldn't hit his own sister, he knew that much, he loved his little sister, but she didn't have any of the same compunction when she used her knives in her attempts to 'persuade' him to 'become one' with her and he bore scars in testament to her tenacity.

He put a finger to his lips and cocked his head, listening intently, he couldn't hear any of the usual tell-tale signs of Belarus – the scrape of metal or the weird chants of 'Marry me, marry me'.

Latvia sighed, she could not understand this fear Russia had for his little sister. Someone as big and strong as him, scared of a small girl? It was weird and almost laughable.

_She _was scared of Belarus, but then again she was a small Nation, but she found if she kept out of Belarus' way, kept her head down and showed no interest at all in Russia, then she was alright. 'It was bizarre,' Latvia thought, 'if _she_ were _my _sister I would hit her'. Her boss could be such a wuss, she thought. (Although she would never dare in a million years tell him this.) 'I bet _my _Ivan from the War wouldn't be afraid of little Belarus. And I bet _he _could kick the crap out of Mr Russia.' She smiled wistfully at the thought of _her _Ivan coming to her rescue and kicking the crap out of Russia and then was brought out of her reverie by Russia thumping on the door.

"Big Sis! Big Sis! Open up. You have to pay your gas bill!"

There were barely perceptible sounds from inside the house and Latvia listened hard, "I think I can hear her boobies bouncing," she said in wonder.

Russia glanced down at her. "I worry about you, Raivis. You have a dirty mind."

"Sir, I didn't mean..."

"Big sis! Open up!" he called.

"Oh, brother Russia! I can't pay at the moment... because I'm broke. Totally broke."

"Don't make me break the door down," Russia said, tapping the door with Mr Pipe, "Do I have to visit your boss, Katya?" he added.

The door was flung open. Evidently, Ukraine decided it was best if she dealt with him, rather than her boss. Tears streaked her cheeks and her blouse had popped open. She tried desperately to make herself presentable.

Russia stormed into the house and plonked himself down at the table, "I'm not leaving until you pay up."

"Erm, Miss Ukraine, I can see your bra," Latvia said tentatively.

Ukraine hissed at the smaller Nation, "I know..." and then, to Latvia's further bewilderment, the Ukrainian took a cut onion out of her pocket, gave a quick sniff of it, shoved it back and turned to her brother.

"Oh, little Vanya!" she wailed, further tears coursing down her cheeks, "I don't know how I'm going to pay."

Latvia's mouth fell open. The artfulness of it shocked the younger Nation. Katya could rival Estonia, she thought, for slyness.

Russia sighed, he wasn't totally unmoved by his sister's 'tears' and he was flustered, his cheeks blazing red as she tried, unsuccessfully to stitch up the buttons on her gaping blouse. What was wrong with his sisters? Why couldn't they be normal? He tried to look away as Katya's feminine undergarments appeared to be under intense strain.

Latvia couldn't look away, she was mesmerised. 'How clever,' she thought. 'Get Russia embarrassed enough and he'll no doubt sod off and she won't have to pay her gas bill.'

Katya switched on the kettle and continued to mend her gaping blouse. "Latvia, would you give me a hand?" she asked the young Baltic.

Russia jumped up, took hold of Latvia and steered her outside.

"I know your little secret, Latvia," he told her, "You Baltics all think you have been very clever..."

"S...S...Sir? I don't know what you mean?" Latvia trembled.

Russia giggled creepily, "You thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you, Latvia? My little Baltics think I am stupid and I don't notice... but I notice lots of things."

Latvia started to panic, "S...S... Sir?" she squeaked and then 'squeaked' in a lower octave, "Sir?"

"You can't fool me, Latvia. I know all about it... I'm not angry, but I have to make some demands of you..."

"W...W...What?" she squeaked, 'Ohmygod ohmygod,' she thought, 'he knows I'm a girl, I've had it, he'll take me to a hotel room and ...'

"You're in love with my sister..."

"W...W...What?"

"Da, you have a crush on Katya. You keep talking about her boobs and I know you like her."

Latvia was so relieved, her head swimming, and she fainted on the spot.

Russia gave a little 'Oh' and caught her in his arms.

Ukraine opened the door and, finding Russia holding Latvia in his arms, put her hands on her hips and said in her most disapproving voice, "Vanya! What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"He fainted!" Russia said, helplessly, holding the limp body.

Katya laughed at this. She still found it absolutely priceless that her dear 'little' brother had not realised that his smallest Baltic was a girl. The bet with Estonia still stood, much as she would like to reveal all to Russia – she was of the opinion that Russia and Latvia should get together – but she'd made a solemn promise not to tell him. Besides, the situation was funny.

* * *

><p>Latvia came round on Katya's couch with a wet flannel on her face, Katya's amused face looking down at her and Russia pacing up and down.<p>

"Women's problems, Raivis?" Katya asked in a whisper.

Raivis sat up quickly and pulled the flannel off her face. "_He _thinks I've got a crush on you!" she whispered back nodding towards _him _– Russia.

Katya laughed hysterically, "Oooh Raivis. I don't think I'm your type."

"You are too old for him," Russia said disapprovingly, "But at least he might actually be growing up to be a man."

Latvia hoped to God that Russia wouldn't say anything about the possibility of her 'balls' dropping.

* * *

><p>A few hours later found the three Nations sat around Katya's kitchen table eating Borsch and black rye bread, watered down with vodka.<p>

"You may as well leave, Vanya. I don't have any money."

"I'm not leaving until you've paid."

This conversation – in various permutations but in the same vein had been going on now for two hours. Latvia sighed, the vodka was going to her head, although her capacity for the stuff was almost as great as Russia's. "Perhaps we should just go home, Sir? Toris will expect us back soon."

"Nyet, not until I've got the gas money."

Gas wasn't just on Russia's mind, as his stomach gave ominous rumbles. He stood up, stretched and hurried upstairs to the bathroom.

Katya shook her head, "I should charge _him _for his gas..." she said.

The house was a small one and the two women could hear Russia's gas production.

"I maybe overdid the onions in that Borsch," Katya said, with a horrid smile.

"Miss Katya, I'm trying to get him to go home. He might not leave if you keep feeding him. I don't want to stay here."

"Oh Raivis, don't worry, I've got a Plan B."

Russia came back in, rubbing his stomach. However much his stomach was troubling him, it clearly didn't trouble him enough to stop him eating and drinking. He pointed up the stairs to Katya's bathroom, "I wouldn't go in there for a bit," he said ominously, "I think Kamchatka might be playing up a bit."

Latvia shuddered, the world's largest gas producer indeed.

Katya opened another bottle of vodka, "I made torte and I've also had a go at making my own mead," she said.

Latvia was worried now, the last time they – along with Estonia and Lithuania – had partaken of Ukraine's home-made alcoholic beverages, Eduard had passed out under the table, Toris – the normally shy and reserved Lithuanian – had removed all his clothes and danced around in the garden howling at the moon, Russia had claimed he couldn't feel his tongue and had disappeared upstairs to be found asleep in his sister's wardrobe. Latvia remembered feeling drunk for days after. Only Katya seemed to escape any after-effects.

"I really think we should go, Mr Russia," Latvia said, "Toris will be expecting us."

"You can stay here," Katya said, calling Russia's bluff.

"Okay," Russia said, "I will," and he cut himself a huge slice of cake, poured himself another glass of vodka and prepared to eat and drink Katya out of house and home as her punishment for not paying.

Latvia looked from brother to sister and back again.

Katya grinned evilly, "Well as I only have two bedrooms..."

Russia looked up and then looked at Latvia, "Latvia will share with me."

"Noooo!" Latvia wailed and then stopped when she saw Russia raise an eyebrow.

"You are not sharing with my sister, young man. I do not want my sister to get a little package in nine months' time. I think your hormones are getting ahead of you."

Vodka snorted out of Katya's nose, "You and Latvia will be very cosy in my big bed, Vanya. I will take the smaller guest room," and she giggled.

"Da, don't worry little Latvia, you will be okay with me."

Latvia turned big sad, pleading, blue eyes at Katya, 'Oh dear Lord, help me,' she silently begged.

Katya, although quite ruthless in some ways, manipulative in many ways, was not wholly cruel. And although she would dearly have loved to see her 'little' brother get it on with Latvia, she couldn't, much as she would have liked to, force Latvia into such a situation. She sighed, "Well, Vanya, are you going home or not?"

"Are you going to pay your gas bill?"

"Hahaha – no."

"Then I'm not going home."

Katya smiled, got up, went into the hallway, picked up the telephone and started dialling, "Privet, Natalya?"

Russia froze, she wouldn't would she?

He heard a gabbling of Ukrainian and he trembled, his strong body shook and his hands shook as he heard Katya tell their younger sister, "Oh Natalya, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you that Vanya was visiting... yes he's here right now!"

Russia leapt to his feet, a look of complete horror on his face. His snapped his fingers at a shocked Latvia, "Raivis, get your stuff, we're going."

Latvia almost wept with relief as Russia started shoving her out the door.

"Shouldn't we telephone for a taxi, Sir?" she asked.

Russia considered this. It was 'only' 250 miles between Kiev and Minsk... Belarus was a fast driver and, even worse, if she got a quick flight over, she could be there within an hour. He started sweating.

Ukraine had already hung up, "A family reunion! It will be so nice..."

Russia disagreed. He picked up the phone, his hands sweating, and dialled a number, "Taxi please, now, as soon as you can... What do you mean you can't get here for another hour? That's no good..." Russia's panic was rising and he gripped the receiver so hard the plastic cracked.

He flung the telephone away from him and it smashed against the wall, "I need your car, sestra," he said.

"It's in the garage having a new gearbox fitted," Katya said.

Russia dragged his fingers through his hair in desperation and then an idea occurred to him. He stepped outside and surveyed the transport available to him – a large tractor. Latvia stood next to him, surely he wasn't thinking... was he?

Russia went back inside, "Sestra where are the keys to your tractor?"

He was.

"Sir, wouldn't it go too slow?" Latvia asked.

Russia thought about this. But desperation was driving him and he looked at his sister in desperation. He really didn't want to end the evening hiding in the barn from his little sister or fending off her affections or worst case scenario - handcuffed naked to a bed.

"The tractor only goes 8 miles an hour, brother..." Katya said.

"That's alright... I should get to the airport before she gets here... just..."

"...And it doesn't work at the moment," Katya added as Russia picked up the keys jubilantly.

Russia slumped dejectedly, he was stuck. They could walk along the road but he doubted that they could get to the airport which was at least 20 miles away before Belarus arrived, even if he ran... and he didn't relish Belarus finding him out in the open...

Katya was smiling, 'this was such fun', she thought, 'this will teach him, he won't be in such a hurry to visit me next time'.

However, it was Latvia who saved the day. "Sir, can you ride?" she asked tentatively.

"Ride? Ride what?" he replied, much annoyed.

"A horse, Sir? I noticed Miss Katya has some horses."

"Are they broken down as well, sestra?" Russia asked sarcastically.

* * *

><p>Latvia would have thought it was romantic, if it had been <em>her <em>Ivan she was holding around the waist and not Russia. She sat behind him on Katya's huge carthorse, which, although not built for speed, was going at a fair speed along the road, Russia proving to be quite the horseman.

"I like horses! Come on, Clover," Russia said, gently patting the horse's mane, "Good boy. I would have named you Warrior or Storm or..."

Latvia ignored him, as did 'Clover' who just trotted on. 'Actually this is quite romantic, who would have thought I'd be carried off on a white horse with a tall, handsome (Latvia blushed, but he was actually quite handsome) Russian? I might put this in my book... The heroine is being harassed by undesirables and her hero, in uniform (Latvia ignored Russia's stained and scruffy Red Army coat) arrives on a white stallion (Latvia was unsure if 'Clover' was a stallion – she thought it rude to look), picks her up in his arms and gallops away.' She sighed, subconsciously tightening her hold on Russia's waist while the oblivious Russian chatted to the horse.

They did finally get to the airport. Latvia had to drag Russia away from the horse, who was tied up in the car park (the horse, not Russia).

As they went through security, just in time for the 10.30 night flight to Leningrad, a small, determined-looking, platinum-blond breathless woman marched through 'Arrivals'. "This time, he will be mine," the woman thought as she stormed through the airport, cutting a swathe around her, people edging backwards.

She was fully armed with a suitcase containing her 'brother-catching kit' – handcuffs, a length of rope and, because he always resisted her advances, a whip and some knives.

When Belarus finally arrived at her sister's house, Russia was already in the air above the Russian border and home free. 'Foiled again', she thought. When she heard about Russia and Latvia's escape via Katya's horse she almost swooned and was severely jealous of the young Baltic. 'Next time he won't be so lucky,' she thought.

**Author's Notes:**

**Kiev was actually destroyed in 1240 by a Mongol invasion. The actual day is unknown.**

**When Latvia talks about 'my Ivan' she obviously means the Ivan she had a one-night stand with in the War – which as you and I, dear reader, both know this is also Russia, one and the same... but she doesn't know this... yet.**

**Borsch – a vegetable soup made of beets, potatoes, cabbages, tomatoes, garlic and onions – often served with bread.**

**Kamchatka peninsular contains around 160 volcanoes, about 19 are active.**

**Russia is the biggest natural gas producer – closely followed by America. (the countries not the Nations – oh well, who knows?)**


	5. Propaganda

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited this story and particularly all those who have PM'd me re possible future chapters (all ideas gratefully received): Art and Soul, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat**. **And all my other anonymous readers**

**This is loosely inspired by Hetalia Axis Powers Episodes 29 and 41 so warnings for sexual innuendo and innuendo about erm... 'size'. **

**Location: Leningrad, Russia**

**Era: mid 1970s**

**Chapter 5 – Propaganda**

"Kolkolkolkolkolkol."

"Boss seems annoyed," Estonia observed, coolly.

"Yer think?" Latvia said sarcastically.

"Don't be cheeky Latvia, and help me with this washing," Toris told the younger Baltic.

The three Baltics were in the kitchen, listening with trepidation whilst Russia slammed up and down the long hallway, his faucet pipe playing a horrid tune on the walls.

"We'll have to redecorate," Toris sighed.

"I hate it here. What's up with him now? Is it wind again?" Latvia asked.

"Stop whining, Raivis, and help me with these sheets."

"Whining? Me? Nobody ever tells _him _to shut up."

"Well, okay, go on then."

"What?"

"Go and tell the boss..."

"Tell the boss what, exactly, Toris?" The Baltics had failed to realise the clanging had stopped and Russia was filling the doorway. "Do you have something to tell me, little Latvia?" Russia's soft voice belied the horrid gleam in his eyes, and he swung Mr Pipe around in the air.

"Sir, I think you should sit down and have a nice cup of tea," Estonia said hurriedly and, in perfect synchrony, like a dance they had perfected over so many years, he and Lithuania pushed Latvia behind them, whilst one switched the kettle on and the other pushed a chair out for Russia.

Russia grumbled and sat down, "I got a letter this morning... look," he handed it to Estonia.

"Dear unfortunate person," Estonia read it out.

"They mean me," Russia said gloomily and craned around Estonia to glare at Latvia, who shivered behind her fellow Baltic.

"There is a curse on this letter..." Estonia continued.

"There's no such thing!" Latvia blurted out and was promptly nudged by Lithuania who whispered, "You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you?"

Russia frowned and said to the smallest Baltic, "Latvia, come here..." and held a hand up at Estonia to halt his reading.

Estonia raised an eyebrow.

Latvia, her courage failing, inched forward until she was a foot away from Russia, she looked down at her feet resolutely. 'Remember the rules,' she thought, 'if in doubt, keep your head down, nod, say nothing and if in real doubt, get on your knees'.

Russia took hold of her chin and tipped her head up so his purple eyes bored into hers, "There are many things in this world that are beyond our comprehension, little Latvia..."

"Do you mean like ghosts and stuff?" Latvia's eyes went wide.

"Da."

"And demons, Sir?" Latvia said, and was nudged by Lithuania.

"Are you trying to be funny, Latvia? Just because England summons me with his demon-summoning spell does not mean I am a demon... that only happened a few times... it could have happened to anyone."

"Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean..." Latvia whispered, her sides aching from Lithuania's nudges.

"Estonia read the letter," Russia said, waving a dismissive hand.

"There is a curse on this letter. If you do not pass this on to three of your friends within three days of reading, then misfortune will befall you," Estonia read, with an incredulous air. He thought that the letter was badly written by an amateur, he noted that friends was mis-spelt as 'fiends' and that there was a lack of punctuation. Also the signature appeared to say 'Squagglemoff', which clearly was not the sign of a reliable person.

"A chain letter? Who would send such a thing?" Lithuania asked, but behind his back he crossed his fingers and hoped it wasn't Poland.

"Who signed it?" Latvia asked. She actually thought it rather funny that Russia was looking so worried.

"It says 'an enemy'," Estonia said, waving the letter around.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't be a friend, would it?" Latvia said, with barely a snicker.

Russia stood up and loomed over the smaller Nation. There was almost a foot difference in height.

"Why, little Latvia? Why should it not be a friend?" Russia asked her, his voice merely a whisper, but with a hint of steel in its tone.

"Erm... well... I suppose a friend wouldn't send such a letter, Sir," she answered quickly.

Lithuania shook his head. She was really pushing it today, he thought.

Russia shook his head sadly, "You three will send this on to people. I do not want this misfortune to befall me. It may come in the guise of Belarus... that would be very bad. And if it is very bad for me, it will be very bad for all of you."

"Sir, we have our chores to do..." Lithuania started to say and then stopped when Russia turned and gave him a 'look'. "...but I'm sure we'll be able to do it," he added, helplessly.

"I don't have three friends!" Latvia whined.

Russia glared at her also.

"I'm sure we can manage this, Sir. I know lots of people," Estonia said and then added a mental note to send out some of his timeshare apartment brochures along with the letters. And do a little re-wording.

* * *

><p>Later...<p>

"Fold the sheet, Raivis."

"I am. Why is everyone picking on me, today?"

"Because you're being so bloody spacey."

"I can't believe the boss is so worried about those letters, what an idiot."

"Shut up. Take hold of that ... oh I give up... is that the phone I can hear... Estoniaaaaaa! Where is he? Why is he never around? Oh I'll get it, I'm the only one who does anything around here. Latvia, load up that washing machine, will you? No, with those clothes... we've just done the sheets... flipping heck, girl, get a move on."

Toris, his arms full of wet bedding, hurried into the hallway, tripped over chunks of plaster and picked up the telephone.

"Yo! Latvina!"

"It's Lithuania..."

"That's what I said."

"Is that you, Amerika?"

"Yo dude, check it out... I'm the Hero. You recognise my voice, dude?"

"Of course, Mr Amerika. I can always recognise your dulcet tones."

"Aw that's ... nice? Anyway, dude, is your dude there?"

"My dude?"

"Commie dude?"

"You mean Mr Russia?"

"Yo."

"You mean Mr Russia?"

"Yo, dude. That's what I said."

Toris sighed heavily. He hoped that Russia's mood had lightened since opening his mail that morning.

"Mr Russia! Sir! It's the telephone!"

Russia clomped down the stairs, his aura was still shimmering, so presumably his mood had not lightened. Truth be told, he was seriously worried about the letter and hoped his dear little Baltics could pass on the letter for him. He had a horrid feeling that the 'misfortune' promised in the letter could entail Belarus, whips and handcuffs.

"Who is it?" he asked Toris, his voice suspicious.

"Mr Amerika," Toris answered and handed him the receiver and ducked instinctively.

"Da, Amerika?"

"Yo Ivan! My main man!"

Russia winced at this and closed his eyes.

"My boss has asked me to ask you to bring along to the next meeting a box of 25 centimetre condoms."

"25 centimetres?"

"Yo."

"Oooh, I don't think..."

"Dude, it's a special favour I'm asking."

"I don't think we've ever made them... erm I don't think I've ever seen them that size before. And you want them for the next meeting?"

"Yep, next meeting, dude."

"Well, I suppose I'll see what I can do."

Toris was stood beside the Russian, and only heard one side of the conversation. He frowned worriedly when he saw Russia's face.

Russia sighed heavily, "You know, I feel kind of sad now..." and hung up.

* * *

><p>Later that same day...<p>

"Pink!"

"It's actually red!"

"It's pink, Raivis."

"I think it's more a kind of red, Toris."

"What's wrong?" Estonia asked. Honestly these two had been arguing and sniping at each other all day.

"She," (here, Toris pointed at Raivis) "She has put the boss' white boxers and his white shirts in with a red sock."

"Oooooh."

"Well you told me to start the washing machine off."

"I have to do everything around here, don't I?" Toris' voice sounded exasperated and then he pulled out another item of clothing from the machine and held it up for inspection, "Oh no, you put his winter coat in there as well... that's pink as well."

"I think it's more of a red."

"Raivis, don't say one more word."

"He said he liked pink."

"Scarves! He likes pink scarves. Not a pink coat, or boxers or shirts... he's going to look..."

"Gay," Raivis said conclusively.

"We. Are. Dead," Toris said and slumped in a chair. Could this day get any worse.

"Toris, you get overworked about nothing. I'll sort this out. Give me that coat," Latvia said and snatched the offending item from him and promptly left the kitchen.

"What are you going to do?" Toris called after her. He then turned to his fellow Baltic in utter desperation, "Ed? Do something?"

"Well... I'm going to make some tea..."

* * *

><p>If Toris thought the day couldn't get any worse... it did. Raivis was gone for about an hour before skipping back through the door with a jubilant look on her face. "There," she said, "Sorted."<p>

"What's sorted?"

"That coat. I gave it to a museum."

"Tell me you're joking?"

Raivis considered this. In her mind, Russia was not going to miss one of his many coats. He had loads. He lived in them. Red Army greatcoats, long winter coats, padded coats. Along with his scarves, she'd never seen her boss without at least six layers of clothing and a scarf around his neck even in the warmest of weathers. Weird. She decided there was no way he was going to miss just one coat.

She was about to find out as the front door was flung open and Russia stomped in, shaking rain from his coat as if he were a large dog.

"Hello kids, I'm home!" he called and then spotting Latvia, he took off his heavy knee-length coat and threw it at her.

Latvia, engulfed by the wool-rich coat, fell to the floor and groaned in response.

Russia stepped passed her, carrying four cardboard boxes with 'Military Issue' printed on the side.

"Sir? Erm, we have something to tell you..." Toris started to say, but was silenced by Russia shoving the boxes on the table.

"I need your help with these," Russia said.

Toris frowned (he was doing a lot of frowning today, he thought) and began opening one of the boxes.

Russia slapped his hand away and nodded his head to the hallway where Latvia was wrestling with Russia's coat as if it were alive, "Better wait until Raivis is in bed. If he sees these... well... those teenage hormones. I don't want him to get ideas."

Estonia and Lithuania exchanged looks. What on earth was he on about? Russia's chain of thought could be difficult to follow at the best of times. He was being downright obscure now.

"By the way, where's that coat I left on this chair yesterday?" Russia asked.

"Coat? What coat?" Toris replied and shrugged his shoulders.

"Are my little Baltics playing games with me?" Russia asked and wagged a finger at them, "I left a coat on this chair and it's gone."

"Sir, I gave it to a museum," Raivis announced.

Toris' mouth dropped open and he nearly dropped his tea-tray, Eduard shook his head and was about to say something.

"A museum? But why?" Russia was appalled and stepped forward so he was looming over the smaller Nation.

"I noticed that it had great historical value and I took it to the Leningrad Military Museum so everyone could see it," Latvia said, but her voice shook and her lip trembled.

Russia's grip on 'Mr Pipe' tightened, "But that's my favourite coat!" he said and his purple aura began to shimmer.

Latvia panicked and threw herself on her knees, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't know!" she said in utter horror. She flinched, expecting a pipe embedding in her head, a hand thwacking her ...

"Latviaaaaa!" Lithuania or Estonia yelled, she wasn't sure which.

Latvia looked up carefully from her kneeling position at Russia's feet, "I think you're amazing, Mr Russia. I think it's important to wear clothes that seem old in a time when historical national costumes are forgotten. Everyone should remember the past and the wars..." here, she finally ran out of words and closed her eyes.

Russia relaxed and smiled benignly, his aura dissipated and he reached down to pull her up, "It's okay, I bought that coat recently," he said and then added, "Why are you so small, Mr Latvia?"

"Because I'm on my knees, Sir," she said. But felt herself dragged to her feet by a large hand. He patted her affectionately on the head and Latvia almost fainted with relief.

Behind Russia's back she gave the shocked and white-faced Lithuania and Estonia a thumbs-up.

Lithuania made a mental note to tell Russia about his pink boxers and shirts when the boss had had his lithium-laced cookies and vodka. Or perhaps, he thought, he should let Latvia tell him, she seemed to be on a roll at the moment.

* * *

><p>It was some hours later when the Baltics found out what exactly what was in the cardboard boxes.<p>

"So he needs these for the next meeting?" Lithuania asked Estonia – the latter knew everything.

"That's what he said."

"What's in them?" Latvia asked, opening a box.

"I have no idea, but he told me to label each packet with an XS," Estonia told her.

"XS? What do you mean?" Latvia said.

Lithuania looked inside the box and flushed bright red and held up one of the 'packets' – a small cardboard packet with the words 'Military Issue Condoms' in Russian on the side.

Latvia giggled, "Oh this is hilarious," she said. "What on earth are they going do with all those condoms?"

"Well, if France is there..." Estonia said, also blushing.

"Mr Amerika rang and asked Mr Russia for them... he asked for 25 cm ones," Lithuania explained. He then blushed bright red again, he hated explaining all this to a girl. Although he often forgot she was a girl. She definitely didn't act like any girl he'd ever met.

Latvia laughed hysterically, "Hahaha, you are kidding, right?" And then, to Lithuania's and Estonia's utter horror, she opened one of the packets and pulled one out.

"I bet the boss mis-heard... this has to be a joke. No way... You can't get them in this..." her voice trailed off.

Lithuania buried his head in his hands. What on earth was he going to do with the girl?

She unfurled the thing and held it up, "...size..." she finished and then laughed.

It got worse.

Russia, clearly drunk, clutching a bottle of vodka padded in. "I do not think it is funny, little Latvia. Poor Mr Amerika... I think perhaps as well as capitalism he has many problems."

Latvia frowned and looked at her fellow Baltics and then at Russia, "Sir?" she said.

"My boss said it was very funny and said I should put extra small on them... but it is not funny if you have one that is too tight, nyet?"

"Extra small?" Latvia squeaked and held the offending item up and stared with wide eyes.

"Da, they should be properly labelled," Russia said, "For health and safety reasons," he slurringly added.

"I would say average, Sir," Lithuania said with a smile.

Russia frowned at this and considered it. But then shook his head, after all Lithuania was a much smaller landmass than him.

It was Estonia's turn to widen his eyes and he looked at his fellow Baltic with new respect. "Average, really?" He muttered to himself, then shrugged.

Latvia cleared her throat and looked from Lithuania to Russia, "Is this a joke, Sir?" she asked, praying in fact that it was.

"Of course it is, Latvia!" Russia laughed, and clapped Latvia on the back.

Latvia relaxed and smiled, "Oh very funny, Sir."

"Who on earth has anything that small?" Russia said, his face deadly serious. He then realised what he had said and added hurriedly, "Don't worry, little Latvia... when you get bigger... perhaps... maybe one day I will give you a talk man to man, then you will not feel so bad, da?"

'Perhaps I have upset the little Nation,' he thought 'by making fun of sizes'. That wasn't good. The little one did look a little nervous and Russia noticed that the boy didn't seem to be growing at all – no facial hair, no muscles, perhaps he should go to a doctor?

* * *

><p>The meeting was held a few days later, in Helsinki. Which was a relief for Russia and the Baltics as it meant they could just drive there and they didn't have the ignominy of taking five large boxes of condoms (now labelled extra small) on to a plane.<p>

It was the usual haphazard affair. America shouting, England shouting at America to stop shouting, France sniggering and telling them all that it was 'unresolved sexual tension', Finland was trying his best to be the host, but got upset when Denmark replaced all the tea with beer. Italy kept sitting on Germany's lap, Austria and Switzerland – sat next to each other (they'd arrived together, sharing the meagre petrol allowance their governments allowed them between them) but with their arms crossed and refused to look at each other.

Sweden was annoyed because his 'wife' was annoyed. Sealand was under the table with Latvia, having been bribed by Prussia to get as much 'information' from the meeting for the 'Awesome One's most awesome return as a Nation there ever was' – in essence, Sealand just wanted to prank Britain by putting itching powder on his seat and Latvia was there trying to keep Sealand out of trouble.

Russia was the only one who was quiet. He sat next to Canada (the only Nation who would sit beside him), the latter Arctic Nation shivered occasionally, clutching his polar bear to his chest and just thankful that Russia hadn't sat on him this time.

"So, dude Russkie, have you brought them?"

"Da! I have!" Russia answered.

"Where are they then?" America asked him.

Russia looked up from his rough pencil sketch of a small girl sniper with a long plait, wearing an over-large Red Army greatcoat carrying a rifle – surrounded by sunflowers. He sighed. "Well, Estonia is here," he nodded his head towards his middle Baltic who was sat in his usual place – behind him, taking copious notes, "Lithuania is out with Polska somewhere doing... I don't know what... and little Latvia is out playing with Sealand," he added as if they were a pair of kids.

Latvia and Sealand frowned at each other under the table.

"No... I meant that favour I asked of you... did you bring them?" America said, "I mean come on, dude!"

Russia sighed, he hadn't forgotten, he was just... embarrassed. He felt rather sad for America. They were all going to make fun of the American, he just knew it. And although much as he didn't like America and found him highly annoying, bringing out boxes of condoms, especially with France in the room was going to bring about chaos, embarrassment and lots of sexual innuendo. Russia was no prude... well, actually he was a little bit. There was a time and a place for everything.

He blushed when he remembered his conversation with the Baltics about those horrid boxes, but then he'd been drunk. He hoped he hadn't insulted them. Suppose _they_ were only 'small'? He should remember the feelings of others, just as Katya told him to.

The Russian stood up and stomped out, motioning for Estonia to follow him, ignoring the whispers from his fellow Nations as he did so.

There it was... he thought, the first comment.

"Mon dieu!"

"Hahaha! You actually... hey! XS? Does that mean extra small?" America all but shouted.

"Dear Lord, what the bloody hell, America?"

"Vingt-cinq centimetres?"

"What's that in inches, chappies?" England asked.

"Is this some kind of joke, nein?" Germany asked and shoved Italy off his knee, again.

"That's what I thought," Russia said, happily - thankful that someone else thought that the condoms were a trifle small.

Germany held one of the packets up, "Extra small?" he raised an eyebrow at Russia and then looked at America.

"Dude! Russkie got the wires crossed... I mean... erm..."

"You asked for 25 cm, Amerika." Russia insisted and felt his cheeks burn.

"Honhonhon, nine and a half inches, mon Angleterre, oh yes!" France said and winked seductively.

"Dear Lord, and you can just shut up, Francy-pants," England said.

Russia shook his head, "It is very silly, nyet? I had to put the size on the boxes. It can be very dangerous to ... you know..." he finished lamely and blushed bright red.

"Que?" France cocked his head to one side and then laughed, "Ah! I see... oh yes. Perhaps Mr Russia you can demonstrate, non?"

Russia hurriedly crossed his legs, pulled his long winter coat around him and glared at France. He clutched his faucet pipe so tightly his knuckles went white.

"Extra small? Really? I mean, really?" England looked at America and then at Russia.

Russia looked back at him, clueless.

"You bloody idiot, Alfred. Did you think you could embarrass _him_. Honestly, grow up! Whose idea was this?" England said in his most no-nonsense voice.

"Dude! Arty! It was... my boss..." he said lamely. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

"Can we just get on with the meeting? This is so childish!" Austria piped up.

"Ja, Austria is right, I have a lot of paperwork to get through," Germany agreed.

"Nine and a half inches? Oh Ludwig! I'm scared!" Italy whined.

Russia frowned at this. He still had no idea why everyone was staring at him. France, in particular seemed to be staring at his trouser area. Russia pulled his coat more tightly around him and tried to ignore the Frenchman's horrid, leering winks.

England practically threw the boxes at the American, who's brain was still whirring and trying to catch up, "And get these bloody stupid things off this table, you gormless idiot!"

But the worst comment came from, not France as Russia would have thought, but from Denmark, "Haha! Now we know why Russia always wears that long coat!"

Russia blushed an even deeper red, his purple aura blazed and he jumped to his feet, upsetting the table, Tino's tea tray and brought his faucet pipe down with such force the table (built by Sweden) was shattered in two.

Latvia and Sealand leapt out, as the table gave way. Thankfully, the room was in such chaos they managed to slink away before anyone noticed.

"Dude's gone mental!"

"Honhonhon, I zink it is unreleased sexual tension. Mr Russia, how long has it been?"

"Mein gott! This is unacceptable!"

"Berwald! My table!"

"Russkie? Not cool, dude!."

"I mean honestly, it's just ridiculous. I blame you, Frogface, for this."

Russia turned to Estonia and snapped his fingers, "Come on, we're going," he said, his eyes blazing. He tucked his pipe back into his coat and stormed out, closely followed by Eduard who smiled apologetically at Finland, and Latvia who slunk out un-noticed by anyone but Sealand who whispered, "See you later, Raivis, hope you don't get sent to bed early?"

Lithuania, who was sat outside the Finn's house with his best friend, Pol, soaking up the sunshine and drinking beer, was picked up by Russia mid-sentence and slung over the Russian's shoulder. "Come on, Toris, we're leaving," Russia told him, un-necessarily it would appear, before shoving 'his' Baltics in the car.

"Bunch of sexual perverts. Weirdos. Deviants. Freaks." These were all words that Russia muttered as he drove home. It is unsure whether he was describing all the Nations or not.

The three Baltics, all sat in the back seat like naughty little kids, said nothing, just exchanged looks. Latvia fell asleep, her head resting on Lithuania's shoulder, Eduard went over his meeting notes and Lithuania ruminated on Poland's dubious account that it wasn't him that sent the threatening letter.

Another day in the life of the Baltics.

**Author's Notes:**

**I'm not sure what the major condom manufacturer is/was in the Soviet Union, but I decided instead to have the boxes marked 'Military Issue'.**

**If anyone is deeply offended by this chapter... well, you're going to be even more offended by another one I have planned... just saying.**

**Reviews/PMs are welcome.**


	6. Crazy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd this story: ****spygirl48,** **Art and Soul, ****Parawhoreanimegirl 11,**** AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat**. **And all my other anonymous readers**

**Warnings: This is loosely based on Hetalia Episode 42, i.e. what happened before and after... Warnings for Belarus and sexual innuendo. Seriously, guys this chapter is not for the younger readers. If anyone thinks it should be an M – let me know. If you are of a 'delicate' disposition or easily offended then I suggest you stop reading now. **

Chapter 6 - Crazy

Leningrad, Russia – early 1980s

Russia woke with a splitting headache and feeling profoundly odd. There was something wrong, definitely wrong, he thought. Firstly, judging by the light in his bedroom, although the heavy curtains were closed, it wasn't morning but late evening. Secondly, he didn't have his blue fleecy pyjamas on, although he did have his scarf on. In fact, he realised he was naked and on top of his bed clothes and not under them. Thirdly, he couldn't move his arms... or his legs. He panicked at this and tried to sit up but then found why he couldn't move his arms and legs, he was tied to the bed. His hands were handcuffed to the iron bedstead, whilst his legs were held by the ankles and tied by ropes to the bedposts at the bottom of his bed. He was also gagged. He tried to spit the gag out, but whoever had done this to him had been quite expert in their ministrations and he couldn't get rid of the rag. He struggled and bounced on the bed, causing the metal bedstead to slam against the wall, sweat covering his body as he started to realise what had happened.

Panic rose in his mind, along with something else that had risen. He looked down his body and ... 'Dear God, why on earth do I have that ...?' That didn't make sense at all, the last thing he felt like doing was 'special cuddles' (England's words), 'woohoo' (Lithuania's terms) or 'horizontal jogging'. In fact it was the last thing on his mind, so why on earth was 'Kamchatka' awake and ready to go?

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse... it did. He'd suspected by now who was the reason for his predicament. And unfortunately, he was not wrong.

"Big brother, I hope you are comfortable? Now we can become one!" came the low, sickly sweet, sing-song voice of his little sister.

If the gag in Russia's mouth hadn't been there, the scream would have been heard all the way to Vladivostok.

* * *

><p>Earlier that day<p>

It was the usual morning at Russia's household.

Ukraine had been staying for a few days which always meant Russia was in a quieter mood than normal, or at least his temper abated quicker as his elder sister would start reminiscing about their childhood at the first sign of a 'Kolkolkol'. She usually told them all of the time 'little Vanya' had first seen snow – as a very young toddler – and that he'd promptly burst into tears. Or when he was told, also as a very young Nation, by his mother and his big sister, that the snow would come back every year and cover his land and that he had again promptly burst into tears. All made him stop dead mid-Kol and stomp off muttering to himself.

Latvia had asked Ukraine if she had any baby pictures of Russia at that age ("I bet he was dead cute", she'd said), but was told not to be silly and that cameras weren't around then.

Ukraine was helping Lithuania in the kitchen, baking bread, both were singing some kind of Lithuanian folk song – "Lietuva, Lietuva," they both sang. Russia would have put a stop to it, thinking – rightly – that it was actually a Lithuanian protest song for independence, but he really didn't want his sister recounting more stories about him as a toddler to his subordinates, so he left them to it.

Latvia was outside in the garden – the greenhouse to be exact – her favourite place, watering the sunflowers and tomatoes and just generally daydreaming. She'd worked out, from the angle of the sun, if she turned to the south-west she was facing her land – Latvia and the other Baltic states. 'One day,' she thought 'and we can leave this crapsack place... maybe _my _Ivan will come along and rescue me and kick Mr Russia's butt while he's at it'. Turn the other direction – east and south she was looking over the vast, unimaginable expanse that was Russia.

Estonia had been to a mind-numbing meeting with Russia. The latter had got bored and restless after an hour and then had started doodling on the pad in front of him. At first it looked like the usual sketch he did (which always puzzled Estonia) - of a young girl with a long plait holding a rifle, often surrounded incongruously by hearts and flowers.

But then Russia had started to play hangman with the shivering wretch next to him. Unfortunately, the answers were always the same – usually one word, five letters: 'Vodka', 'Death', 'Blood' and 'Pipes'. Russia, like a large kid, was severely annoyed that the man seemed to know the answers straight away each time and slammed Mr Pipe on the offending piece of paper, unfortunately destroying his sketch of his 'long lost beloved', as well as the Hangman game, and also the table.

By the time Estonia and Russia had got back to the house, the mail had arrived, along with it some pleasant surprises.

"You have won three tickets to see 'Star Wars' at the Helsinki Plaza" Estonia read out, and three cinema tickets fell out of the envelope.

"Yay!" Latvia yelled, "I wanted to see that movie. Peter says it's brilliant. There's this baddie called..."

"But there's only three! We can't all go," Ukraine said.

Russia frowned, taking the tickets out of Latvia's hand, "It looks rubbish," he said grumbling.

"Star _Wars_?" Lithuania raised an eyebrow and emphasised the word 'wars' and looked at Estonia meaningfully. It was always a bad idea for Russia to watch anything with the word 'war' in it.

"It's not those Wars, it's..." Latvia started to say.

But she was hushed by Lithuania, who nudged her and indicated that she was to shut her mouth quickly.

"Perhaps I could go then? We could buy extra tickets!" Russia said happily. "I haven't been to the cinema in many years..."

There were many good reasons for this. For a start, he usually fell asleep within ten minutes of the movie starting, his snoring echoing around the movie theatre until someone shouted at him and then all chaos would erupt as he would inevitably shove his pipe into someone's head. War films were obviously out of the question, as were romantic comedies – Russia fell asleep at those. Horror movies or anything pertaining action movies was also out of the question, Russia would get agitated and they would have to leave before he launched himself at the baddie/monster/vampire on screen. Therefore, the Baltics only took him to see Disney movies – for some reason talking cartoon animals calmed him down – he particularly liked Winnie the Pooh, The Aristocats and The Rescuers (the latter two they'd had to buy on video tape and put it on whenever Russia had a particularly depressing 'black dog' mood).

All three Baltics looked at each other in fear, Ukraine thought this was funny, "We could all go together! We'll buy popcorn, some candy..." She had evidently forgotten just how difficult it was doing anything approaching 'normal' with her 'little' brother. "We could have a lovely day out!" she said happily, as if they were one large, happy, normal family.

"Do we have to take _him_?" Latvia whispered, gesturing at Russia. She just knew that one or all of them was going to end up pulling the Russian out in the middle of the film before he put someone in hospital. "This isn't some Disney movie with singing cats. There's loads of fighting. Mr Russia will go mental," she added.

Actually, Latvia and the Baltics were saved by the postman who rang the bell just as Russia was throwing on his coat.

"Privet?" Lithuania said as he answered the door.

"Consignment of ...Beluga Vodka and ... Caspian Caviar... for Mr Braginski... sign here," the postman said.

Russia stopped dead, instantly interested. He swept back to the door, shoving Latvia and Estonia out of the way. "Ooooh caviar... and vodka..." he picked up one of the crates and smiled happily. "My boss said he had a surprise for me... because I've been good."

Estonia and Ukraine shared a 'look', Russia was never 'good'. He usually frightened his boss and assorted government officials out of their wits. He'd had such a bad time from previous bosses, his recent policy for dealing with bosses after his experiences with Stalin, had been to intimidate them at every given opportunity.

Before Lithuania had even signed the delivery form, Russia had already carried the crate of vodka and the refrigerated box of caviar into the lounge. He loved caviar, probably just as much, if not more than Toris' chocolate chip cookies, which really were just 'American junk food'. However, caviar, particularly good stuff such as this, was expensive, and he never usually got to eat it, unless he was at some 'event' or diplomatic state visit.

"You go and have a nice time," he called, "Don't eat too much popcorn!"

"Come on, let's go," Latvia said, "Before he changes his mind."

Lithuania didn't need telling twice. He picked up the car keys and was out of the door after Latvia.

Only Estonia paused, "Don't you all think it's a bit odd?"

"Yes, he's odd," Latvia said, and pushed her fellow Baltic out of the door.

"We should ring Pol and ask him to come with us!" Lithuania said happily, jumping in the car and starting the engine.

"What a good idea," Latvia said sarcastically, "We'll exchange one weirdo for another."

Toris glared at her as she jumped in the back seat, "You're pushing it today, girl. Just behave or you won't be going anywhere."

"No, I mean, doesn't anyone else think it's a bit of coincidence?" Estonia continued to his fellow Nations.

Nobody was listening. Latvia and Lithuania were having an argument.

"You're not my dad!"

"It's a good job I'm not, young lady."

"Toris! Raivis! Can we stop arguing for once and just have a nice day out?" Ukraine said exasperated.

"You can't make me stay with _him,_" Latvia said, referring to Russia as _him_.

Lithuania, of course, wasn't that bloody-minded and he did love Latvia like a little sister, but she did drive him mad sometimes.

"I mean, we didn't enter any competition for movie tickets," Estonia said, talking to himself.

"What's this film about anyway?" Lithuania said as they pulled out of the driveway.

"... and why on earth would Mr Brezhnev send the boss caviar and vodka?" Estonia asked no-one in particular.

"It's about this guy from this planet who rescues this princess from this baddie who works for this evil empire and then they blow up this big planet." Latvia said. Peter, who'd collected all the sticker albums, had his own toy light-sabre and had seen the film three times, had told her all about it.

"Why does he do that?" Lithuania said, frowning.

"What?"

"Blow up his own planet?"

"It's not his own planet."

"Why is there always a princess? Why is it never a farmer?" Ukraine said, much aggrieved.

"I just think something's afoot," Estonia said darkly.

None of his fellow Nations heeded him and they drove on to Helsinki, arguing much of the way.

Estonia was right – he usually was – something was afoot. And evil was its name. Or her name.

* * *

><p>Russia was of course oblivious to Estonia's misgivings. Russia himself had no such misgivings. He was ensconced in his lounge, laid on the couch, Russi-cat on his lap, a bowl of caviar and a bottle of vodka on a table at the side of him, Shostakovich record playing on the gramophone, Russia, for once was quiet and content. The vodka, he thought, tasted a little strange, as did the caviar, but he put this down to the fact that he was unused to such good quality food-stuffs. This was better than any 'Spar Wars' or some such rubbish. He was quite glad he hadn't gone out with his beloved Baltics and big sis.<p>

He quietly conducted the piano concerto, waving his arms around, disturbing the purring feline and smiled to himself. If only all days were like this.

Hidden in bushes at the side of the house, a young, platinum-blond haired woman smiled to herself. Admittedly it was rather a creepy smile. "Soon," she whispered, "He will be mine." Then she checked herself as she realised she was talking to herself.

She glanced at her watch. Everything had gone according to plan. The bait had been taken. Those stupid little Baltics had left, along with her pest of a sister. She hadn't reckoned on _her _being there. She did love her sister very much, but it irritated her that big brother allowed Katya to stay when she couldn't. She'd had a moment of panic when she'd heard Vanya about to follow the pesky Baltics out to the car, but then the vodka and the caviar had arrived. She knew her brother's weakness for expensive caviar and vodka. It had almost broken her bank, but it would be worth it, she thought.

She looked at her watch again. How long, she wondered, before the drugs would start to take effect?

Russia, laid on his couch, continued to silently conduct an invisible orchestra. This vodka did taste funny. He held up the bottle and tried to read the label. His vision started to go blurry and the label seemed to swim in front of his eyes. Experimentally, he tried reading it up close before putting the bottle at arms' length. He'd barely drunk half of it but he felt very dizzy and quite drunk. Russi-cat jumped off his lap with consternation as Russia sat up jerkily and tried to stand. He swayed on his feet and looked at the vodka bottle in confusion. He took another slurp and grimaced, it definitely tasted ... odd. He took another bottle, opened that and sniffed the contents. This too smelt 'funny', he took a taste, the usual burn on his throat was there, along with an unfamiliar 'gritty' taste. He flung the bottle at the far wall, the record player smashed and Shostakovich was silenced mid-note. They were trying to poison him!

Belarus listened intently, heard the crash and assumed that by now her dear, darling brother was fully drugged and inebriated. She tightened her hold on the bag she was carrying which held her 'brother-catching kit' and went to the front door.

"Big brother..." she called in what she thought was her sweetest most seductive voice, "Oh big brother... open up..."

Russia, his head by now pounding, his vision so bad he could see two of everything, froze. He stumbled around, tried to pick up Mr Pipe, gave up after missing three times to get a hold – the damned thing seemed to move around on the carpet as if alive. He then hid behind the couch and covered his ears. If he stayed quiet she might go away.

"Big brother! I know you're in there," she continued. Belarus sighed. Why did he have to be such a big jerk? They were perfect for each other. He was big, strong and handsome and would protect her from invaders. If they were married and became 'one', nobody would ever invade her country ever again. She, in return, would be the perfect wife. Kind, gentle, submissive (here the author is really wondering if Natalya is also drunk) and would provide him with lots and lots of little Russias. The fact that they were brother and sister did not really enter Belarus' head. So what? Such a small consequence did not apply to Nations.

"Open the door big brother... why do you have to be such a big jerk all the time?" she shouted and then rummaged in her bag.

Russia trembled behind the couch and wished he'd gone to the cinema with his Baltics and his sister. His head hurt, his eyes were blurring and other things were happening to his body which totally belied the utter fear he felt at that moment. He didn't really want to think about what was happening down there in his 'trouser department'.

"Go away, go away, go away!" he yelled, desperately. He pulled his coat around him more securely and closed his eyes, hoping his great wooden front door that had withstood the great siege of Leningrad in 1941, Decembrists' revolts of 1825 and the fires of 1736 would stand against his little sister.

It didn't. Belarus' bag was unlike most young lady's bags. It held manacles, rope, a whip, several knives, spare vodka and a spare bottle of Viagara pills. She hoped she didn't have to use the latter and that Russia had consumed enough of the already Viagara-laden caviar and vodka that he would be 'ready to go'. She selected one of her most trusty and biggest knives and started to attack the lock.

A consummate lock-picker, the 'Chubb' lock practically waved a white flag at her and as she pressed the handle down carefully, the door opened with a click.

Belarus pushed the door open and stepped inside, "Oh brother, that shit door couldn't keep us apart, now we can become one," she called. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out the rope and the handcuffs. Restraints were going to be necessary, she decided.

Sometimes, if Belarus was being normal, i.e. she wasn't in full 'marry me, brother' mode and her fears of being invaded hadn't resurfaced for a while, she could get away with being held and cuddled by her big brother. Then she could relax in his arms, her head muffled against his chest and listen to his strong steady 1000 year old heartbeat. It was the only place she ever truly felt safe. Russia could forget for a few moments that she was his insane, bat-shit crazy little sister who wanted to marry him, and would instead remember the time when they were growing up and he used to sing her to sleep or hold her when there was a thunderstorm and she was scared. But this was not one of those times.

Russia got up from behind the couch, what was he, he thought? A warrior or a man afraid of his little sister? She was smaller than him, by about a foot, weighed in at half his size and was not half as strong as him. But her knife-throwing skills were unerringly accurate, she was fast on her feet and she was tenacious – and not in a good way.

Russia considered his options. He could make a run for it – outside, but the car was gone and he doubted, due to his impaired vision, he could drive in a straight line (the Baltics would probably say that he couldn't drive in a straight line with perfect vision).

He could hide in the garden shed, but that would corner him and it was a small place – only bags of fertiliser to hide behind.

His only other thought was to get upstairs and hide in Latvia's attic bedroom – he could perhaps defend himself from up there. The only way up to the said attic was via a very rickety wooden staircase. Russia thought, his brain now on a 'war-footing' that if he got up there and managed to destroy the staircase behind him, his little sister wouldn't be able to get to him. But then he'd be stuck in 'siege' conditions. But he was prepared to take that risk and hope his Baltics and Katya would arrive, riding to his rescue any time soon.

He started to make for the stairs, his heart was pumping wildly and he was shivering and sweating. What on earth had she put in that vodka? He really had no idea, but he didn't like the way he felt at all. There were also certain 'activities' down below in his trouser department which were distracting in the extreme and bore no relation to what was going in his head. In fact, things were getting so serious 'down there' that he was having trouble running. He stopped at the top of the stairs, his face now very red. He felt flustered, horrified and actually quite scared, especially as he saw Belarus coming up the stairs after him.

She had an awful smile on her face, which she obviously thought was seductive. It had the opposite effect on Russia and he clung to the banister and tried desperately to head along the hallway to the attic stairway. But his legs refused to work and whatever was in the vodka was having such an effect on his 'undercarriage' that he found it very difficult to walk.

Belarus was almost level with him now. She smiled a ghastly smile and said softly, "Dear brother, let me help you, I'll take care of you."

Russia tried to say something and tried to push her away. What else could he do? He couldn't hit his little sister could he? He loved her, he really did. Usually holding her at arm's length did the trick, even when she was slashing him with knives – until she was subdued and/or knocked out/distracted by Toris or Katya. 'Where are my dear little Baltics now?' he thought.

He only managed to utter a long "Nooooooooo," before she stepped forward, stood on tiptoe and very gently stroked his hair. She then, with an awful sad smile on her face, knocked him in the back of the head with something big and blunt.

Russia fell to the floor with a crash.

* * *

><p>Later...<p>

Russia struggled against the bonds that held him, the rope around his ankles strained as he convulsed and writhed. He was sure he felt some 'give' in it, the handcuffs were digging into his wrists painfully as he strained against the cold metal.

Belarus entered the room, clad in a sheer black lacy negligee, black stockings, suspenders, high heeled boots, long black gloves and brandishing a whip, she was, for Russia, the stuff of nightmares. For any other male Nation, the stuff of dreams – probably minus the whip, but who knows?

She stopped dead at Russia's physical state. She wasn't surprised so much the restraints or his nakedness – she'd done all this herself, having dragged him unconscious into his bedroom, divested him of his clothes and then tied him to the bed – but of the actual effects of the Viagara on his personage. Although she'd noted with satisfaction that the drugs appeared to be working on her brother, she hadn't expected _that much _of a reaction. She swallowed nervously. 'Becoming one' with her big brother was starting to look as if it was going to be more of an ordeal that she'd imagined.

She decided to play for time and hoped that he would calm down a little. 'Surely all that bucking and heaving on the bed can't be helping, can it?' she thought. So she dropped her whip (Russia felt some relief at this) – she'd only brought it along for 'effect' thinking men liked that kind of thing and, with some hesitation, decided to do a strip-tease.

Russia struggled with renewed vigour against his bonds and felt, with some satisfaction, the ropes holding his ankles tear a little. However, he couldn't help but watch his little sister shimmy around the bedroom with a kind of awful fascination.

Belarus started, very slowly, what she thought was a sensual strip-tease. To Russia it looked like she was having a fight with her boots. And the leather boots were winning. Her seductive smile turned into a grimace and she hopped around trying to pull the damn things off. Russia continued his struggles while she was distracted but couldn't help watching – rather like watching a slow-motion car crash - as she tried to steady herself against the wall, gave an almighty tug on the heel of her boot and promptly keeled over.

She jumped back to her feet and hobbled around the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, ignored her brother and tried to get the other boot off. The zip was stuck and she cursed and swore, occasionally turning to give her darling brother what she thought was a seductive smile, before grimacing and turning back to the offending footwear. Eventually she got the thing off and stood up, spun it around her head and let go. The boot went sailing through the air and, just as Belarus was about to pay attention to her stockings, there was a sound of splintering glass as it went through the bedroom window.

Russia closed his eyes, why oh why did he get into these situations? Why couldn't he have someone, anyone, but his little sister obsessed with him? What was wrong with him, her and his weird family? He just hoped his saviours were on their way, as he continued to pull at the ropes.

His 'saviours' were closer than he imagined.

* * *

><p>Just pulling into the driveway...<p>

"I still think they should have made that Princess a farmer..." Ukraine was arguing.

"Farmer Leia does not have the same ring," Estonia sighed.

"That Luke person was a farmer though," Latvia said helpfully.

"I still don't get it... who was that Darth person again?" Toris asked. He'd been very confused by the whole film.

"Like, dude Garth guy was totally un-scary," Pol said. They'd met him at the cinema (Poland, not Darth Vader) and he'd jumped in the car, saying he would come back for some 'love and recreation' with his 'Liet'.

"It's Darth Vader, not Garth... oh never mind," Latvia said, but she did agree with 'Pol'. Darth Vader was a wuzz compared to their boss.

"I hope the boss had a nice afternoon," Toris said as he parked the car in front of the house.

"I'm sure he did..." Ukraine said and her next words were cut off as a thigh-length high-heeled black leather boot crashed through an upstairs window and landed on the windscreen.

The four Nations exchanged looks. This was not normal activity – even by Russia's household standards.

They all got out of the car warily, and Ukraine gingerly picked up the boot and inspected it. She looked up at the broken bedroom window and said quietly, "Belarus".

This last statement was a sad testament to Russia's perceived attractiveness to the opposite sex – no-one thought for one minute the boots could belong to any other female.

Latvia took the boot from the older Nation, "Does Miss Belarus wear these?" she asked quizzically.

"Well, the boss doesn't," Estonia said conclusively.

"I've seen her in them," Toris said, and his eyes gleamed and he flushed as everyone's eyes turned to look at him.

Poland shook his head, "Like, Liet, don't get your hopes up with that bitch. The last time you went out with her she broke all your fingers."

"So that means..." Latvia let the sentence hang and they all looked at one another nervously.

* * *

><p>Russia was so relieved when Estonia and Lithuania burst in through the bedroom door, he almost wept. But the humiliation he felt was also tear-inducing.<p>

Belarus screamed and with cat-like agility leapt at Toris with a knife. His martial arts skills came into practice and he felled her with a blow.

She lay unconscious and Toris was about to pick her up but Estonia put a hand on his arm and gestured to Russia who was still struggling and panting.

They both widened their eyes at the sight of their boss. Ukraine followed them in, took in the sight of her little sister unconscious on the floor and her brother tied up, naked and his male particulars in an obvious state of arousal and said, "Vanya! What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Latvia was just about to sidle in to get a look at 'what on earth her boss was doing', but Toris, with remarkably quick reflexes, had a hand over her eyes and was shoving her out. Pol's eyes widened and he giggled nervously, "Like, hey, bloody hell, Braginski, that's some package you've got there" before he too was unceremoniously shoved out.

Estonia took one of Belarus' knives and got to work on the ropes, whilst Toris rummaged through Belarus' bag to find the key to the handcuffs. It was Ukraine who took the gag out of his mouth. She wished she hadn't. Russia expelled a stream of profanities and curses so dreadful that Katya almost put the gag back in.

The knife wasn't quite through the ropes before Russia had managed to pull them off. Similarly, the handcuffs was so bent that by the time Toris had unlocked them it would have been doubtful that they would have held him much longer.

Russia jumped off the bed and the three other Nations all leapt back nervously, their eyes wandering 'south'. Russia, blushing furiously, struggled into his clothes and – particularly with his pants - 'struggled' was the correct term. He gave up with that 'area' and, to his fellow Nations' relief, pulled on his long winter coat.

Ukraine and Estonia, between them, picked up the prone body of Belarus, wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to the car, placing her in the back seat. Ukraine got in the driving seat, and informed Estonia that she would take her sister to see 'those nice people' at the asylum.

It was a good thing that Belarus was out of the way, Russia, fuelled on vodka and Viagara could be likened to an express train and was now in possession of Mr Pipe. He charged through the mansion taking out his frustration and anger on anything that didn't move.

* * *

><p>Estonia, Lithuania, Poland and Latvia sat in the kitchen listening whilst Russia slammed his way around the house.<p>

"Dude needs to take a chill pill," Pol said. He had taken possession of Belarus' boots and had tried them on. They were three sizes too small for him, but they would stretch, he thought.

Lithuania sighed, "Have a heart, Pol, poor guy was tied up naked to a bed by his sister," he said.

Latvia's eyes widened, "Really?"

Poland nodded, "I saw everything, Raivis, sweetie. I'm going to have nightmares for months," Poland emphasised the word 'everything'. "Dude needs to lose weight, though," he added.

There was a resounding crash as something met its doom and all four Nations jumped.

"What a loser," Raivis said, "I mean honestly, overpowered by your little sister."

"Shut up, Raivis," Toris said, but he was feeling rather depressed and sad. Why couldn't Natalya have overpowered _him_ and tied _him _to a bed?

Estonia shook his head, "It's a good job we got here when we did," he said wisely. "I knew there was something not quite right about those cinema tickets and that vodka."

Poland stood up, "Right, I'm going to order pizza," he said, heading for the hallway, "Anyone else want some?"

Latvia started giggling, "Ten inch pepperoni," she snorted.

Lithuania glared at her, "Use your brain, Raivis. Just remember – the boss is overdosed on vodka and Viagara and you're the only female in the house," he warned her when Poland was out of earshot.

Latvia went very pale.

* * *

><p>In fact, they all had pizza. Poland ordered three twelve inch 'meat feasts' – which caused more giggling from Latvia. Russia eventually calmed down enough to venture, very pale-faced and trembling into the kitchen to eat one of the pizzas, his coat was wrapped securely around him and he sat very awkwardly and in some obvious discomfort. Latvia tried very hard not to look at him. Poland, under very strict orders from Lithuania, said not a word. Only Estonia and Lithuania tried to make conversation.<p>

Russia eventually hobbled away, pulling Toris out of the door with him for a quick whispered conversation.

Latvia, from inside the kitchen, only heard snatches:

"I don't know what to do... it won't go away!"

"Sir, perhaps you need to see a doctor?"

"I'm not going to a doctor!"

"Well, I don't know what you can do... just wait a bit and I'm sure..."

"It hurts, Toris."

"I'll have a word with Pol."

"Wut?"

Latvia, her eyes as wide as dinner-plates, watched as Lithuania came back into the room and whispered in his best friend's ear.

Poland laughed so much it looked as if he was going to have some sort of fit. He then composed himself hurriedly after seeing Lithuania's disapproving looks. "Like, Liet, do you honestly think I carry that stuff around with me... oh you do... well, I suppose..." The Pole sighed and, Latvia's curiosity really peaking now, he reached into his pink handbag and pulled out several magazines and gave them to Toris. "Tell the big lunk I want them back!" he called.

Toris shook his head and took the said magazines to his boss who was waiting outside the door – stood very awkwardly, his pale cheeks ablaze. "I bet everyone's laughing at me," he said sadly.

"No, Sir, nobody's laughing at you," Toris said quietly, and handed him the magazines.

Russia sighed sadly and stumbled away, he stopped half way up the stairs after having a quick look at the cover of one of the magazines – showing an improbably muscular, oiled man with an equally improbable six-pack, threw them down and shouted, "I'm not like that, Polska!" and promptly took himself up the stairs as quickly as his condition would allow.

'Polska' just shrugged and smiled at a bewildered Latvia, "Who knew?" he said.

* * *

><p>It was many hours later before Russia ventured back downstairs to join his Baltics in the lounge watching television. All were drinking vodka and eating the remnants of a large bucket of popcorn. Russia looked very pale and exhausted. He flopped (pardon the pun) down onto the couch between Estonia and Latvia and pulled them both into a large bear hug.<p>

"I love my Baltics," he said hoarsely.

Latvia gulped, Lithuania's warning still echoing in her head, she was acutely aware of how close she was to Russia and she tried to inch away from him, grateful that he didn't know she was a girl.

"Don't ever leave me again," Russia puffed and then released them with a heavy sigh, leaned back, rested his heavy blond head on Latvia's shoulder and fell sound asleep.

The earth turned... the sun went down... another day in the life of the Baltics...

~The End~

**Author's Notes:**

**'Kamchatka' – Russia's and my terms for his 'vital regions' (i.e. much in the same way as Florida is America's). I know in the last chapter Russia terms his stomach 'Kamchatka' but I think he refers to the southern regions as Kamchatka as a pet term.**

**Mr Brezhnev – was the boss of the Soviet Union (i.e. the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union) from 1964 to 1982.**

**Viagara or Sildenafil wasn't brought out until the 1990s so I've taken quite a few literary licenses here. Also, it should be noted that although Viagara was marketed as a pill for erectile dysfunction – this was actually a side effect, its first clinical trials for the drug was for arterial hypertension. The side effects are sweating, palpitations, dizziness, headaches, blurred vision and... priapism (so not really that sexy eh?)**

**If anyone takes offence at this chapter (I did try to keep it T rated and obscure in the terms of bodily parts) then I will re-rate it as an M. But to be honest I've personally seen worse in K rated stories.**

**Review/PMs are as always welcome. Flames will be used to barbecue any religious pamphlets I can get hold of.**


	7. Halloween Part I

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn,** **BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat**. **And all my other anonymous readers**

**Warnings: Multiple crack pairings, France being France, Belarus, implied yaoi, lots of fluff**

Chapter 7 – Halloween Part I

Leningrad, Russia – Halloween, 1981 (set a few weeks prior to the events of Baltics Secrets)

Very late PM

It was pitch-black in the closet. Russia swigged his vodka and listened with bated breath for the dreaded sounds of his little sister. She'd been following him around all night and he'd heard the dreaded sounds of 'Oh brother' close behind him as he'd staggered up the stairs.

The closet was certainly not big enough for him to stand up in, but he felt fairly comfortable sitting cross-legged, his dark cloak wrapped around him, the hood up.

He was annoyed with France. He thought he would be the only one in a Darth Vader costume. He had no idea who this person was. His Baltics had been to see a movie called Spar Wars, Start Wars (he liked that version) or something and came home going on about this villain who could kill people just by thought. Imagine that? Russia thought he sounded a bit of a pansy, why not just use your hands?

He took another swig from his bottle and froze as someone had obviously entered the room. He waited, hardly daring to breath and heard little pitter patter of feet. Russia shrank back into the walk-in closet, hiding behind various Red Army coats and a Panda costume and pulled his long legs up and fumbled for his pipe.

He couldn't hit his little sister with a pipe could he? But what else to do if she tried to molest him? He didn't want to end up tied to a bed, naked again.

The closet door opened and then shut as a small figure sidled in next to him. He felt a small hand accidently brush against him and then a squeak as something small and feminine landed on his lap. It wasn't Belarus, there were no sharp bits and as his hand rested on the girlish thigh resting on his, he couldn't detect any stockings or suspenders. He gave a small sigh of relief.

"Ah, Monsieur France!" came a little girlish voice, slurring badly.

France? They thought he was France? Oh yes, the cloak.

Whoever it was, was very drunk. He could smell alcohol on their breath. By the softness of the skin on the person's face and the smooth thighs, he deduced it was probably a girl. 'Oh God, please don't let it be Poland,' he thought. Perhaps it was China as he felt lips suddenly pressed against his own.

He was about to say something but whoever it was, was straddling his lap, their small arms wrapped around his neck and their hands in his hair. He couldn't see a hand in front of him, but he could feel warm lips exploring his own and it felt very nice. Russia shifted a bit, he wasn't used to girls, or anyone for that matter ('please let it be a girl, and not Poland', he thought again) sitting on his lap, never mind kissing him.

His hand shifted up towards the mystery person's chest and he deduced a small soft breast encased in some silky material and he gave a sigh of relief.

"Hmmm Monsieur France, you are a very good kisser..." came the little voice, in an awful fake French accent, slurring very badly, her voice muffled against his chest.

Russia wondered whether he should say something and then decided he'd better not. If he revealed who he was then there would be a huge scream. Various connotations ran through his head. Lily? Oh no Switzy would blast his head off... Hungary? Maybe, although she had bigger boobs... if she knew it was him she would smack him with her frying pan. Belgium? Could be - that would explain the 'oooh France bit'. But why a fake French accent? It certainly wasn't either of his sisters – Russia squeezed the girl's breast tentatively just to make sure, 'might as well', he thought, France was going to get the blame anyway. The girl gave a little squeak of surprise and a moan. Nope, he relaxed, definitely not big enough for Katya and it certainly wasn't Natalya.

The girl hummed and drunkenly kissed him again, her hands stroking his chest, "Oooh Monsieur France, you are so muscular!" she whispered and then giggled, pulled away and then said in a very coquettish voice, "Did you like that Monsieur France?"

'Monsieur France' nodded vigorously and tried to pull her back onto his lap.

The girl did a very bad imitation of France's laugh "Honhonhon," she giggled, "Well I am afraid, Mr France that is all you are going to get! Au revoir!" she said and slithered out, just about fell out of the closet and with remarkable speed for someone who was evidently drunk out of their head, ran out of the room. Russia saw a glimpse of a shapely thigh and pink material of some kind of fairy costume and she was gone.

Bloody hell! Russia couldn't believe it. The little bloody tease. It had to be Hungary... or possibly Belgium. He got out of the closet, re-arranged his cloak and staggered out of the room, on the hunt for his little paramour.

* * *

><p>Earlier that day<p>

"A pumpkin! Why do I have to be a pumpkin?" Latvia wailed.

"You know why," Lithuania hissed at her, "Now shut up and go put it on."

Latvia grumbled and stomped off. She passed Darth Vader on the stairs, "Privet Sir," she said grumpily.

Russia waved an unlit light-sabre at her. He couldn't figure out where the switch was – which was a good thing really because when it was lit (a cheery pink) he just stood and stared mesmerised which would have been no good in any fight. "Will you join the Park Side, young Latvia?"

"It's the Dark Side, Sir," she said, pushing the light-sabre out of her face and sighed. How many times did they have to tell him?

Russia carried on down the stairs, still waving the plastic toy joyfully, "May the Horse be with you!" he called.

"It's Force!" Latvia called back and then ran up the steps to her attic bedroom, threw herself on her bed muttering, "Big idiot."

Russia was quite pleased he was this 'Aida' person. Apparently, this was the villain of this Spar Wars saga whatever that was. He quite liked the black cloak, and the black leather gloves, but he wasn't keen on the helmet which made it hard to breathe. No wonder the guy in the movie was wheezing all the time. 'I bet I can beat him in a fight,' Russia thought.

He raised an eyebrow at the scantily-clad nurse sat in his kitchen. Poland was applying bright red nail varnish to his false nails. Russia didn't think nurses should wear false nails. Wouldn't that be a health hazard? Surely, they would get stuck somewhere? He winced at Lithuania's outfit – a doctor's coat with a stethoscope around his neck. Doctors and nurses? Russia shuddered.

"What are you supposed to be?" Russia asked Estonia.

"A vampire bat, Sir. But my wings fell off." Estonia blushed, he hated his outfit. Lithuania had picked out their outfits in a costume shop in Warsaw. He particularly hated the black tights which he was made to wear. They made his legs look like sticks of liquorice.

"You look like a giant pregnant mouse," Russia said, "Why are you wearing all that padding? Are bats supposed to be fat?"

Estonia ignored him. He wished _he_ could have worn the Darth Vader costume. It was wasted on Russia. 'The guy didn't need a bloody costume', the Baltic thought.

"When is everyone arriving?" Russia asked for the twentieth time. He was extremely excited that the Nations were actually coming to his house, voluntarily, for a 'Halloween' party. He had no idea what this Halloween was, but it sounded fun. It was supposed to be scary, he thought, and no doubt it would be – Belarus was coming. But, here he was only a little reassured, there would be lots of people to hide behind and distract her. He hoped America could annoy her enough that she might actually forget about him.

Lithuania sighed, the boss was like a little kid, he decided, "In a few hours, Sir."

He was starting regret this already. It had been Poland's idea, and Russia had picked up on the idea, only managing to persuade his fellow Nations after reassuring them that they could bring their own security services as bodyguards and that they wouldn't be sent to Siberia at any time. Most of them were actually planning on arriving in twos and threes – he knew the Nordics would all come as a group. America had rung him and told him that his boss would only allow him to attend if he came with England. Switzerland had grumbled and said he was only attending because Lily wanted to, but he insisted that he bring his rifle.

The doorbell rang, "Can someone get that...?" Lithuania asked fruitlessly. He looked around. Russia had found the switch for his light-sabre and was looking at the pink glow with a spacey smile on his face. And he'd not even had his medication yet.

Pol held up his hands, "Nails wet, hun," he said.

Estonia shuffled to get out of his chair, the padding got in the way and he shrugged uselessly.

"I'll get it, I do everything else around here," Lithuania said.

He opened the door to three Vikings (literally), a pumpkin, a sailor and a Santa.

"You didn't even make an effort!" he told the Nordics.

Denmark charged in, dropped his huge axe on the hallway floor with a clang and stomped in carrying his beer, "Chill, man."

"Well I did!" the pumpkin aka Iceland said, he pointed to his fellow Nordics, "They're boring."

"Why dress as Vikings when you are Vikings?" Lithuania asked.

"That's in our past, we don't go around pillaging and looting anymore," Norway explained.

Sweden grunted. 'Santa' nodded.

"Speak for yourselves!" Denmark called.

"Is Lily here yet?" the pumpkin asked and then added hurriedly, "And... her brother?"

Lithuania shook his head, wondering why Iceland was interested in the two Alpine Nations.

"Is Raivis here? What's he dressed as?" Sealand asked.

"A pumpkin, he's upstairs getting changed," Lithuania answered. "Why didn't you bother?"

Sealand shrugged, "No-one ever notices me anyway. Besides it's lame. Halloween's for kids."

"Privet! Oh Toris, you look er ... dashing!" Katya bounced up the steps and gave Toris a huge hug, and then proceeded to hug the Vikings to her huge chest, knocking off their horned helmets. She saved a big special hug for Santa, "Oh Tino! You are so cute!" she said.

Santa blushed, finding himself pulled against a tall ladybird with boobs was disconcerting to say the least.

"Is Miss Bela with you?" Lithuania asked, carefully.

The question was answered as the Vikings jumped out of the way as Belarus, adorned in a very clingy, black velvet gown, high heels, her platinum blond hair had red streaks in it, white make-up and bright red lipstick, strode through, "Out of the way," she said.

"Oh Miss Natalya!" Toris exclaimed. His eyes widened as he drank in her beauty.

She shoved him roughly out of the way, "Where's my brother?"

Toris swooned, "I've never seen her look so beautiful..." he whispered, almost panting.

"She's Vampirella," Katya explained.

"That figures," Norway said. "Where do we put our axes?" he added.

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Katya said.

Toris, followed Belarus as if in a dream, waved a hand dismissively, "Oh I don't know... there..." he said.

Sealand ran up the stairs to Latvia's attic bedroom, banged on the door and went in. Latvia had just shoved her pumpkin outfit on as he barged in.

"Peter! You should knock and wait for an answer before coming in!" she told him.

"Calm down, Raivis. God, you're turning into a right woman!"

She sighed heavily, she felt a complete dolt in this outfit, her legs were encased in bright green tights – on what planet did pumpkins have green legs or legs of any colour for that matter? The pumpkin outfit was a horrid orange round affair and she thought she actually looked like a tangerine.

Lithuania had told her she should wear something that covered her 'shape'. She'd argued that she'd always had a 'shape' and what was up with being an elf or a male fairy? Toris had answered that due to the number of Nations arriving and the copious amounts of alcohol, there was likely to be some indiscriminate groping (Latvia was quite thrilled at this idea) so if she wore something padded that totally hid her figure nobody, even if they did touch her, would know she was a girl.

"Haha! You're a pumpkin like Icy!"

"Why are you wearing your school uniform?"

"It's my sailor suit... besides Halloween's lame," Peter answered her. "I bet we can get to see loads though. It'll be a right laugh. Jerk Dad England is coming later as a pirate. How boring. With his boyfriend."

"His boyfriend?"

"America."

"Are they... I mean, really?"

"Who knows?" Peter said, pulling faces at Latvia's ABBA tape collection.

"What's the plan?" Raivis said, putting on the strange cap that came with the outfit – a green stalk – and then flinging it off in disgust.

"Well, I don't know about you, but Mom and Dad said I wasn't to drink, so that's what I'm going to do."

Latvia still thought it hilarious that Peter referred to Sweden and Finland as Mom and Dad. She wished they were _her _mom and dad, though. She said as much to him frequently, to be told that then she'd have had to go to school and she was lucky living in Russia's house – at least she got to drink loads of vodka.

She often wondered what would have happened if Russia had bought the small micro-nation at the auction before Sweden had. What would Russia have made of the little mouthy schoolboy?

"Well, I intend to get absolutely plastered," she told Peter and with a nod, they set off downstairs to get under a table before 'it all kicked off' and they could get ringside seats. After all, once the big Nations started drinking, inhibitions went out of the window and there were all sorts of opportunity for blackmail.

**Author's Note:**

**This whole episode turned out to be a very long one, so have split it into two parts. Part II to follow shortly (with more fluff) - please be patient as I keep fiddling with the ending. **


	8. Halloween Part II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd:** **xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat**. **And all my other anonymous readers**

**Warnings: Multiple crack pairings, France being France, Belarus, implied yaoi, fluff, wanderings into the mind of Russia and Latvia.**

Chapter 8 – Halloween Part II

A few hours later

Sealand and Latvia were indeed correct; more and more Nations stumbled in. Many of them were already well on their way to being very drunk. England (having drunk a bottle of rum on the flight to Russia) was already slurring. The Englishman wore a very tatty pirate costume that had seen better days and waved a cutlass around frequently. He arrived, as expected, with his 'boyfriend' (as Sealand termed him), America, who was dressed as Batman.

Latvia and Sealand were ensconced under the large table in Russia's dining room along with Iceland and Lily (Lily in a pink fairy costume complete with wings). Latvia couldn't understand why Icy (being a bona-fide Nordic Viking) was spending so much time with them – the 'younger' kid Nations. She had no idea that in fact, he and Lily would hold hands when nobody was looking.

Sealand had been right – their position was a very good one. They'd observed Belarus's attempted seduction of Russia which ended in the usual shouts of 'Marry me marry me' to be met with Russia running around and ending up at one point under the table with the four Nations. He'd spent an hour drinking vodka (the vodka bottle being passed back and forth by Latvia and Peter) and peering out under the tablecloth.

Switzerland had panicked several times about where his 'darling' Lily was, until he found her under the table, playing a hastily put-together game of Ludo with Peter and Latvia (Icy disappearing quickly before Vash caught sight of him).

They'd observed Hungary and Austria dancing a very drunken waltz – the former dressed in a French maid's outfit, her frying pan tucked in her apron, the latter dressed as a ghost. Latvia sighed dreamily. She'd thought Austria looked very dashing.

Other Nations didn't share this view. When England, drunkenly swishing his pirate cutlass at the aristocrat had asked him, slurring badly, "What the bloody hell have you come ash, Aushtria? You're covered in shum flour?"

The Austrian had told them all, haughtily, that he was 'the ghost of Mozart'.

"Boring, man!" Batman aka America had yelled, "I mean my bro Canadia has come as a ghost... well he was here a minute ago," he added lamely.

There was also the sight of Belgium, dressed as some kind of goth fairy, resplendent in pink and black but with plastic fangs, dancing first with America (who had tripped over his own feet) while the Belgian whispered in his ear – evidently quite suggestive things as the American went bright red. She then danced with France – the latter dressed as Darth Vader.

Latvia had seen the Star Wars movie only once but couldn't remember the main antagonist being so camp and flirtatious or saying the lines "You don't know the power of ze sexy side honhonhon!" and "I find your lack of underpants disturbing!" This latter line uttered to England, who proceeded to duel him with his cutlass. Cutlass versus light-sabre was interesting.

Several other Nations arrived sporadically. Mulan aka China attempted to instruct Russia in the art of the tango, but had to give up when Russia's huge size 14 feet had flattened the Chinaman's delicate toes once too often. Spain had taken over – dressed rather obviously as a matador, his tangoing skills were legendary and he whisked the diminutive Mulan up and down the hallway. Russia grumbled and kolkolled about Spain and his 'boring' outfit and that he (Russia) would make Spain's outfit more exciting with a bit of 'red'.

* * *

><p>If Spain's outfit was uninspiring (but then everybody's was), the next group of Nations to arrive set the standard much lower. Russia answered the ring of the doorbell, primarily to escape Belarus, who was attempting to cling to him in a seductive manner – although not seductive to Russia. (There was a hole in one of her stockings, and a heel had come off one of her shoes so she walked with a pronounced limp and she had drunk a fair amount of vodka.) As she followed Russia around the house, Toris, with a ridiculously dreamy look on his face, followed <em>her<em>.

The two Italies, Germany and Japan were stood on the doorstep, all carrying vodka (to Russia's delight) – which eased any possible annoyance he might have for finding the 'Axis Powers' on his doorstep. He stepped back, resisting the urge to snarl at Germany for entering his beloved Mother Russia at all.

The new arrivals' costumes were interesting. Russia was confused as he showed them in, slamming the door behind them.

Feliciano was the first to speak, as open and cheery as usual, "Ve Mr Russia," he said, swinging his braided hair about, Russia noticed the small Italian was wearing a large cardboard box with 'Bolognese' written in childish letters on it, "It's wonderful to be here... isn't it, fratello?"

"Whatever." Romano answered, waving a dismissive hand around.

Germany coughed politely, as did Japan, who was dressed in a pretty pink kimono with a dragon on the back. Japan's hair – or wig (Russia suspected it was the latter or Japan had grown his hair very long which didn't suit the uptight Japanese man) was dressed elaborately with a chopstick in it.

"What have you come as?" Russia asked Feliciano, blocking their entrance to his house.

"Pastaaaaaaa!" Feliciano yelled happily and waved his hair around, "This is spaghetti!"

Russia raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Germany in his dark business suit and tie.

"I did not dress up. It is demeaning," Germany said.

Russia growled a little at this. He had personally enjoyed putting on the dark cloak, gloves and the black trousers. He didn't like the mask though and carried it around instead, finding it a useful container for crisps.

Feliciano smiled, 'that's what you think', he thought. Germany's usually immaculately greased back hair had delicate daisies at the back and there was a huge 'CND Peace' sign tacked to the back of his jacket. Clearly, he was an undercover hippie.

"I am a geisha girl," Japan said and bowed to his former enemy in a formal manner.

Russia ignored him. He'd had enough of cross-dressers to last him a lifetime. 'Little weirdo', he thought.

It was Romano's outfit that interested Russia. "That's a Red Army greatcoat!" he said astonished.

"Si," Romano said and hurried past Russia before he could ask any more questions. Truth be told, Romano had filched a very old Red Army coat from a military vintage clothing shop, had fashioned a medal by sticking a red ribbon with a crude cardboard cut-out of a red star glued to it and tacked it on his chest. He had a lit-up flashing plastic wand which he thought would serve as a faucet pipe and an empty vodka bottle and had come as ... Russia.

"Can we come in?" Germany asked. This was a reasonable question as the party was now in full swing and they had been invited.

Russia stepped back to let Italy and Japan in, but stuck an arm out and stopped Germany before he'd taken a step further into the house, "Start any wars and I will rip your head off and eat it," Russia told him menacingly.

Germany nodded his head hurriedly. It was his first time on Russian soil since... well, since the War and he knew he had to tread carefully. He supposed he should be grateful Russia had invited him at all. He was thankful he'd had the sense to ignore Feliciano who'd brought in various costumes from the fancy dress shop in Rome. These could all have been utterly disastrous. So disastrous that Germany had seriously wondered if Italy was trying to get him killed. One outfit had been a German Luftwaffe uniform ('but you look so handsome in it' Feliciano had said – Germany had thought he would not look very handsome without a head), the other had been equally frightening – a Napoleon costume. Ludwig had thrown it down in disgust – he was too tall to go as Napoleon he had told the obliviously stupid small Italian. However, Russia would no doubt have pounded him so hard he would have ended up being short enough to get away with it. Seriously, if Feliciano did not declare his love for him every day, he would have thought Feliciano had wanted serious injury to befall him.

* * *

><p>The party was indeed in full swing. Lots of people were now very drunk, there was lots of giggling, smooching and, for Latvia and Sealand, now alone under the table – Iceland and Lily had somehow disappeared – it was a gossip's dream. Or would have been if Latvia hadn't been so drunk. She'd managed to dodge out every so often and run the gauntlet of the more, shall we say, 'amorous' male Nations who did not really care that she was a he dressed as a pumpkin – namely, France, Spain and Denmark.<p>

France in particular had been attempting to seduce everybody who had moved. First, Belarus, who had punched him soundly. Then Katya who had laughed hysterically and told him when he'd revealed how little he was wearing under that Darth Vader cloak, "That looks like a penis only it's very, very small."

England had waved his cutlass at him (and that's not a euphemism for anything) and told him slurring badly "You can't jusht come to me, Franshis just cosh you can't get anybody elsh."

Sealand and Latvia were playing a game as old as time (or almost) – truth or dare.

Unfortunately, for Latvia, Sealand was fairly sober. He'd tried the vodka – just to show how grown-up he was – but he didn't really like the taste. Also Latvia kept picking 'dare', she was afraid to pick 'truth' in case Sealand asked her, even jokingly, if she was a girl, or if she fancied any of the Male Nations. With his huge mouth, he definitely couldn't be trusted. Sealand, however, always picked truth, but Latvia couldn't think of any particularly juicy stuff to ask Sealand and he didn't seem to know any.

So far, the dares had been fairly easy – run out, stand behind England (who was blind drunk) whisper 'oh l'amour' in his ear and run back. This had caused much hilarity as England had staggered about shouting about 'that French pervert'.

Another had been to replace Sweden's helmet with Finland's Santa hat – she'd failed at that and Sweden, ever the quiet but intimidating gentleman, had just frowned when she'd stood on tiptoe behind him and attempted to divest him of his Viking helmet. Denmark had yelled "Dude Latvia stealing your helmet, dude Ber!"

But then the dares got ever more daring. Sealand, realising Latvia was drunk, egged her on. She was fast on her feet, and generally the drunken male Nations did not realise as their drinks were swapped around, cloaks unfastened, in one case a pretty hair bow tied in Spain's hair (Latvia had hesitated a little, getting a good view of the Spaniard's rather nice (she thought) arse).

She'd also stolen Greece's alien mask (he'd come as a green alien, America calling him 'Tony' for some strange reason). However, Sealand had said it didn't count as the Greek was fast asleep on the couch with Russi-cat on his chest.

She also managed a little waltz with Austria (another dare issued by Sealand). She had gazed into his violet eyes dreamily, her head spinning as the stern Austrian held her around her pumpkin waist. Then Roderich had brought her out of her reverie by saying, "Well young man, and that's how you waltz. Next time you should lead. You should go away and practise with a nice young lady." Austria cast around, there were no 'nice young ladies'. But Latvia was already back under the table, her heart racing, her knees like jelly.

* * *

><p>Neither Sealand nor Latvia could really recount the exact details of why Latvia had decided she would get 'revenge' on France. Or exactly what he had done to anger her so much.<p>

Every time she had ventured out – whether to stick a 'kick me' sign on Denmark's back (Norway taking this as a good enough excuse to do so), shove a whoopee cushion under England as he sat down (Sealand had a plethora of crude practical joke kits), dropping some red food colouring in Russia's vodka (he didn't notice) – France had tried to grab her as she sped past.

"Honhonhon, leetle Latvia you are looking for l'amour?" the Frenchman said.

Another time, he chased her down the hallway, yelling "But leetle Latvia, I bet you are still a virgin, non?" and "I will show you what a real man is!"

So, with each vodka she consumed, a horrid plan started to form in her head. 'You want to show me what a real man is, do you, Francy?' she'd thought.

Sealand's next dare, therefore, really hit home, "I bet you daren't..." he paused, "kiss Mr France!" There, that should do it, he thought. There's absolutely no way his best friend would do that. He'd known Latvia for years. They were partners in crime, had pranked most of the Nations at some time or another and Sealand thought he knew Latvia inside out and back to front. He was very wrong. 'No way would Latvia do this,' he thought, 'Latvia's as straight as they come, straight-laced, never even had a girlfriend, I've won'.

"Right, I will..."

"What?" Sealand's mouth opened in shock. He couldn't have been more shocked if his 'Uncle Den' had walked in wearing women's underwear...

"I will... but he won't know it's me..." she said. 'Oh, I'm going to get you, Mr Francy-pants... you think you're so clever. Calling me a little pansy boy.' She'd winced at that – particularly coming from someone as camp as the Frenchman. But she also wanted to get him into trouble. She was going to have a snog with a man... bloody hell, how long had it been, seriously? Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be with Austria... but you can't have everything... and, if she did this properly, France was going to think he was kissing one of the female Nations. He _would_ be kissing one of the female nations... only he didn't know _she_ was one of the female Nations. She actually laughed at the genius of it. 'Do it right', she thought, 'and that idiot Francis could end up being chased around the garden by Switzerland and his rifle, or being bashed by Miss Hungary's frying pan.'

She turned to Sealand, "I'm gonna stitch that Francy up good and proper," she slurred and promptly emerged from under the table, swayed quite a bit. She got her bearings, and wandered off in search of Poland. She was going to need another costume.

* * *

><p>Poland was in the kitchen trying to soothe Lithuania who was in tears. Yes, it was that kind of party. "She'll never love me," he sobbed to Pol.<p>

Poland just held his best friend in his arms, it was all so predictable. He was used to this now. Belarus would shimmy around in revealing clothes trying to get Russia's attention, Russia would run, Belarus would run after him, whilst Toris would gaze after her... his heart usually broken again.

"Oh Liet, she's like such a bitch. You're worth far more than that, sweetie. I'm always here," Pol told him.

Latvia staggered in, "Hey Pol... oh..." she hesitated, guessed correctly the reason for the tears, "Belarus?" (Pol nodded) "She's a complete bitch," Latvia concluded. Who would want someone who went after their own brother, tied them up, dosed them up on viagara, humiliated them? She felt a huge amount of pity for Russia after _that _episode, once she'd stopped laughing that is. She never understood Toris's infatuation with his boss's sister. "Have you got any spare costumes?" she asked Pol.

"Sweetie-pie I _always_ have spare costumes, what do you want?"

Toris looked up and wiped away his tears, "What are you up to, Raivis?" he asked.

Latvia shook her head, "Nothing," she slurred.

Pol had indeed come prepared for every eventuality, his suitcase was full of nurse outfits, vampire costumes and fairy costumes. Bizarre, but Latvia decided not to ask any questions. Poland, strangely, didn't ask why Latvia wanted a pink fairy costume and a black Dracula cloak. Obviously, on Planet Poland, everyone should, at some time, try cross-dressing.

She took the costume, ran up to her room, slipped it on, pulled on the cloak which fell around her ankles, pulled on Greece's alien mask and ventured downstairs carefully. Anyone seeing her, she thought, although to be honest, not many people could see very clearly at that time, would think she was Lily, or Belgium, or Hungary, or Belarus dressed as a vampire-fairy-alien creature. Her body was well-covered by the cloak and her face hidden by the mask. Even if they grabbed her, she decided, they might just assume she was one of the less curvaceous female nations like Lily, Belgium or, at a push, Hungary. They'd have to be really drunk, she thought to think she was one of the more well-endowed women such as Katya.

She scooted around the edges of the party and looked out for her quarry. She'd got a half-baked plan in her head to get him in a dark corner (that should be easy), get him to grope her (that also would be easy), pull off her mask long enough to get a kiss, then scream loudly and in the riot that would undoubtedly follow, beat a hasty retreat.

England was slumped in a corner singing 'Rule Britannia'. America was under a table with someone who had very shapely legs (Latvia could tell it was America by his blue Batman tights) but she couldn't tell if the person he was with was a man or a woman. If the former he'd shaved his legs and was wearing a skirt.

Sealand was sat on the kitchen worktop eating crisps. He'd escaped their hiding place as Batman and some unidentifiable Nation had crawled in – Batman yelling "Let's go, Robin." He didn't recognise Latvia as she skirted around Toris and Poland who were now in a passionate clinch under the stairs and she ran into Katya – literally bouncing off her boobs as the Ukrainian woman smooched with China.

"Where are you off to ... Latvia?" Ukraine asked.

"I'm Lily," Latvia said hurriedly.

"Of course you are, honey," Katya said and led China (who actually looked far more feminine than Ukraine) down the hallway in a mad polka.

She went past the lounge, stopping half-way in to listen to the Nordics and Estonia deep in conversation.

"So when we finally get our independence, we'll form the Baltic Nordic 8?" she heard Estonia say.

"Group of 8, yes," a voice that sounded like Finland answered.

"Wait, hang on, dudes... a group... woohoo... I'll bring my lube," the unmistakable voice of Denmark boomed out.

"Not that kind of group, you fool." She guessed that was Norway.

"Nordic-Baltic 8." Finland (she thought) said.

"Hey why 8?" Denmark all but yelled.

"Because there's five of us, three of them, fool," Norway said.

"I'll bring my beer," Denmark announced to everyone within a five mile radius.

"I can bring fish." She guessed that was Iceland.

"It's about security, trade agreements and co-operation, not partying." She heard Estonia say. To no avail, obviously, Denmark thought it would involve other things...

"And beer! Awesome!"

"You're a fool."

She thought about going in, this sounded interesting. But then remembered she was supposed to do the ultimate prank on France. She swayed a bit, wondered briefly if this was such a good idea and was about to give up when she turned around and saw her quarry – the tail-end of a black cloak heading up the stairs.

Drunkenly, her head still spinning a little, she was about to follow when she had to jump back quickly into the shadows and watch with fascination, like a slow-motion car crash, as Romano and Belarus went up the stairs together, giggling.

Belarus was slurring very badly, "Oh big brother, finally, we can become one!" she said dreamily.

Latvia shook her head. Yes, the Italian was wearing a Red Army great coat but there the similarity ended, he didn't even have blond hair, never mind Russia's height or build.

Latvia, her courage by now almost failing, took a quick swig from a nearby half-empty vodka bottle and ran up the stairs. 'It's now or never', she thought. She saw the black cloak disappear into one of the many unused bedrooms and the door closed. She waited for a few minutes to see if anyone followed the Frenchman in, and then took a deep breath and followed.

'Well, where the bloody hell has he gone?' She looked around the dimly-lit room, half expecting her quarry to jump out and grab her. The only light was from the full moon coming from the window. As drunk as she was (and she was very drunk), she'd definitely seen him come into this room. He'd even been wearing that bloody mask. And then she saw the huge walk-in closet where Russia kept his military uniforms. 'The dirty sod', she thought, 'he has a fetish about closets'. She grinned to herself. 'I'll jump in, kiss the freak and then jump out. Then he'll come chasing after me... but I'll be gone and he'll think he's kissed Lily or Belgium or, even funnier', she thought, thinking of the Hungarian's frying pan, 'Hungary'.

She opened the closet door and crawled in, carefully closing it behind her.

It was pitch black and for a minute she thought she might have imagined France entering the room, but then she heard heavy breathing. She inched herself forward, shoving coats aside clumsily and inadvertently landed in someone's lap and a larger than expected warm hand on her thigh.

"Oooh Monsieur France!" she said as she pulled off her mask and then wondered why on earth she'd used a French accent. It was appropriate for some reason. Plus she felt really quite sloshed. She could barely see a hand in front of her, so there was no way he would see she was 'leetle Latvia'.

France was actually very quiet and reticent. She'd expected him to grab her and molest her straight away. But that wasn't the case. In fact he seemed quite awkward when she kissed him. His lips were also very warm and gentle. There were no 'honhonhons' and she was prepared to knee him in the balls in case he did try to rape her. But she found that his hands – which were bigger than she expected – to be remarkably gentle and tentative.

"Hmmm", she hummed as he gave one of her breasts a soft squeeze and she was about to thump him, but he took his hand away again. She couldn't see a thing in front of her, but she ran her fingers through his hair, gave him another kiss just for the hell of it – after all, 30 years is a long time.

"Hmm, Monsieur France, you are a good kisser," she giggled. 'Actually', she thought, 'he was. But of course, the Nation of love. He certainly lived up to his advertisements', she thought.

He was still silent. She'd expected that by now he'd have at least said _something_, but she could just hear his heavy breathing, faint groans and subtle moans as she stroked his hair. She then gave his chest a quick stroke. He was actually more muscular and solid than he looked. "Oh Monsieur France, you are so muscular," she kissed him, giggled and then pulled away. 'Time to go', she thought.

"Did you like that, Monsieur France?"

France nodded vigorously and tried to pull her back onto his lap.

"Honhonhon," she giggled, imitating his annoying laugh, "Well I'm afraid Monsieur France," she exaggerated the 'Monsieur' rather a lot, "that is all you are going to get. Au revoir!" she said and made her escape, giggling.

She practically fell out of the closet, pulled her mask back on, jumped up and ran for the door. It wasn't until she got to her bedroom that she collapsed with laughter and waited for the proverbial shit to hit the fan.

* * *

><p>Later...<p>

Latvia staggered downstairs, now dressed in her pumpkin outfit and feeling rather pleased with herself. She'd had her first snog for over thirty years and got one over on the so-called 'master of love'.

However, she was disappointed to find that no shit had hit any fan. France hadn't tried to proposition Lily (she felt some guilt over that – Lily was her friend after all) and Switzerland wasn't chasing France around with his rifle as expected. In fact France was snogging in a corner with... was that England? Honestly, she would rather not look. The man clearly had no scruples or morals. She wasn't jealous, of course she wasn't. She actually wished she could have got Mr Austria in that closet. But that was impossible as she found Mr Austria and Miss Hungary slow-dancing to some dreary love song someone had put on the turntable.

"I thought you were going to snog France?" Sealand asked her as she stumbled into the kitchen to make some coffee. She really should sober up, she decided. Russia had just charged past her on the stairs, kolkolling and almost knocking her down in the process. She really couldn't cope with him if she was drunk.

"I did! I got him in a closet... I was dressed as Lily..." she whispered, "And keep your bloody voice down."

"Well... I think..."

Russia stomped in and took hold of his smallest Baltic roughly by the arms, a weird look in his eyes, "Have you seen Miss Belgium?" he asked her.

"Nope," she said and hoped this was the end of the conversation. Poor Miss Belgium she thought, what's she done to deserve _his _attentions?

"She's under that table with Mr America!" Sealand pointed triumphantly at his previous hiding place. He then added doubtfully, "...I think."

Russia dragged Batman out, and found the Hero was actually asleep with Japan clinging to his waist.

He stormed on through the house, gained a smack around the head with a frying pan when he asked Hungary 'if she'd kissed him' (Austria tutted disapprovingly). Hungary followed this up with "Why on earth would I kiss _you_ of all bloody people?"

"But you kissed France? But you thought..." Russia didn't get to finish this line of enquiry as Hungary smacked him again at the impertinence of it.

He found Belgium - who'd looked at him as if he were mad when he took her in his arms and attempted to kiss her.

She stepped back, "Oh Mr Russia, you are erm nice, but I'm with Antonio..." she said pointing to Spain, who went white and backed off. He had no intention whatsoever of fighting Russia over Belgium.

"But you kissed France and it was really me... and..." Russia broke off when he saw Belgium's incredulous face. Russia sighed and went on his way. Either Hungary and Belgium were so horrified at their mistake, or neither were the mystery woman, he had no idea.

Belgium turned to Spain and punched him on the arm, "You didn't even attempt to protect my honour! You lazy, idle, good-for-nothing..."

Antonio clutched his arm and, his reactions very belated, said a pathetic, "Ow?" he had no idea what had just happened.

Russia stormed on, determined to find his little 'amour' and get to the bottom of the mystery.

* * *

><p>Obliviously, Latvia sat on the worktop with Sealand eating crisps out of a Darth Vader helmet. "Mr France has been snogging Jerk Dad England for the past half an hour," Sealand told her.<p>

"Oooooh," realisation started to dawn on her... "Oh nooooo, Sealand... guess what I've done?" she wailed.

Sealand's eyes went wide as he looked at the horror on his best friend's face, "What, Raivis?"

She thought seriously about it - the huge hands, the large frame, the floppy hair, the silence, the dark cloak, it could only be one person. "I think I just kissed your Dad!" she said in absolute horror.

"Well, he is gay. Don't worry I won't tell Mum," Sealand said decisively. He didn't want his 'parents' splitting up.

Latvia shook her head. Sweden may not be as 'gay' as Sealand thought.

* * *

><p>"Vanya, what on earth do you think you are doing?" Ukraine exclaimed when she found her brother leaning against the wall, towering over Lily. The smaller Nation's back was pressed against the wall and Liechtenstein's eyes were as big and wide as a rabbit's caught in a car's headlights. Russia had both his hands either side of her head and was questioning her about her whereabouts.<p>

"I...I...She... We... er..." words failed him as he tried to indicate he thought that little Lily might not be the angel everyone thought she was, and that she was an indiscriminate seducer of male Nations. He was trying to tell Lily in his roundabout obscure way that when she thought she was kissing France, she had in fact been kissing _him_ and it had been bloody lovely. But all that came out was "You... we... I think... France is a pervert..."

He was about to say something more eloquent when he found a rifle in his face and, surprisingly, Iceland stood beside the Swissman also looking angry. What on earth did it have it to do with Iceland?

"Erm, she kissed me!" he said hurriedly.

Katya grabbed hold of her 'little' brother and apologised to Switzerland and Lily – who had barely uttered a word.

"Get in that kitchen and get some coffee in you and sober up. Honestly, what are you thinking? Why would Lily kiss you, you big lunk?" she told him.

"It's okay, Mr Russia didn't mean anything... I think he's just confused," Lily said. It had actually been the most thrilling thing to have happened to the young Nation in a long while.

* * *

><p>It was dawn the next day before most of the Nations had been extricated from various closets, wardrobes, bathrooms and bedrooms. Many of them caught an early flight back to their countries still dressed as pirates, superheroes and, in Romano's case, a Red Army officer.<p>

Italy and Germany had left the party fairly early and retired to a small hotel outside Leningrad, Italy's cardboard box being torn apart in a fit of passion by the usually retiring German.

Romano had caught the early flight back to Rome, thankful that he'd escaped with his life after drunkenly seducing Belarus. She'd fallen asleep on his chest before he'd even gotten his coat off, for which he was quite relieved. Much as he thought of himself as a lady's man and wanted people to think he had no scruples when it came to love, to have taken a girl to bed under false pretences was not something even he could do. He sighed though a little at the thought of her lovely face – which, when not threatening disembowelment – was indeed beautiful.

Belgium and Spain had taken the taxi to the airport together. However, that's where their relationship ended. "I'm fed up of you. I can't rely on you. You're never there for me!" she told the baffled Spaniard. "It's not enough that you have a nice arse!" she told him. He was inclined to disagree with this last statement – it had always been enough before.

France had attempted to share a taxi with England, "Oh Angleterre! We have shared such passion!" England disagreed with this. In his horrified mind, he had shared an unguarded moment of stupidity with the Frenchman. Francis always got him when he was at his most vulnerable and he was determined that it would never happen again. However, this was a promise he made himself every fifty years or so. 'No, this time, I mean it', he thought. 'I need a girlfriend,' he thought to himself.

America, still in his Batman costume, had travelled back to Japan with Japan. "Hey dude, I want to meet some real geishas!" the American had yelled.

The Nordics, along with Sealand, had all driven home to Helsinki. Sealand watched his 'mum and dad' carefully for any signs of a possible separation or divorce. The only threat to their 'marriage' was Denmark's twice-yearly visits which lasted from anything to three months to six months, when Sweden would threaten to embed his axe in the Dane's head and Finland, ever the compromiser, would stop him.

Vash and Lily had caught the first flight back to Bern, Vash muttering and grumbling to himself that he would never allow Lily out of his sight again. He also told her that it would be 'best' if she didn't leave the house for a while, until 'Mr Russia's passion died down' because 'he might come after her again'. Lily sighed. It had been the most fun and excitement she'd ever had.

Toris spent the night in Pol's arms. 'At least he loves me,' Lithuania thought as he held his best friend, stroking his blond hair as Poland snored in his ear.

Hungary and Austria left together but argued the whole flight back to Vienna:

"This doesn't mean we're back together," Hungary told her ex-husband.

"Then why are you coming back to Vienna with me?" Austria had fired back.

"I just can't be bothered to go home to Budapest and work. I need a holiday. It doesn't mean anything," Hungary bit back.

"Well, okay then," Austria countered, "I see, that's fine with me. I suppose you can stay for a few days."

"Oh well thank you soooo much."

The arguing went on until they arrived at Austria's mansion and carried on all the way up to Austria's bedroom and Roderich's four poster bed.

Katya and China had stayed up most of the night, playing poker and talking about their respective idiotic siblings. Five thousand years of life experience between them, but to no avail. China still couldn't convince South Korea that he didn't have breasts, while Katya despaired of her brother ever finding love and of her sister ever finding someone appropriate to love.

* * *

><p>Russia went to bed still puzzled. He was not convinced it hadn't been Belgium or Lily that he'd kissed. Hungary was definitely a no-no, he thought. Although, would she have admitted it? They'd had a fling many years before and she'd always wanted to keep that quiet... No, he thought, whoever it was had genuinely thought he was France and there was no way Hungary would kiss France. His brain whirred. Whoever it was, he decided, had been bloody lovely. He then sighed, obviously they would never have kissed <em>him <em>so it actually didn't matter who it was. He fell asleep feeling very sad and alone, hugging his pillow to his chest. He would have hugged Russi-cat – but the feline was still asleep on Greece on the living room couch. (As a side note it was late afternoon the next day before Greece was woken and had to be practically thrown out – he'd slept through the whole party.)

* * *

><p>Latvia curled up in bed listening to the various stirrings, giggling and stumbling about around the house. She only finally relaxed when she heard Russia's reassuring snoring from the room below hers.<p>

'Oh God', she thought, 'I kissed Sweden. Who'd have thought he was such a good kisser? He must have known I was a girl – he felt my boob. Or was it him?' All the Nordics were wearing cloaks. She went through her options again – Denmark wouldn't have been able to keep quiet if his life depended on it, besides his hair stuck up like he'd poked a plug socket. Norway, Finland and Iceland were all too small and too polite... although it's always the quiet ones and Finland was wearing his Santa costume, Icy was a pumpkin. Who had big hands and floppy straight hair? It had to be Sweden. Or Germany? 'Oh God, no'. She thought, 'but then he wasn't wearing a cloak... unless silly Italy had put one on him'.

Spain? No... although he had been wearing a cape... Italy was too chatty, China was too small, as was Japan, Toris had been sobbing in Pol's arms, America had been unconscious, England had been snogging France. A horrid thought hit her – Russia? Surely not, he wouldn't have been gentle or quiet and she hadn't felt any of that horrid, dreadful, chilling aura of fear she usually felt when around him.

When she finally fell asleep she was still no wiser. However, she had a very hot, steamy, graphic dream about her mysterious Ivan kissing her.

**Author's Notes:**

**NB8 – Nordic-Baltic 8 was indeed set up just after the Baltics gained their independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. The Nordic Council first contacted the Baltics in 1989 and were always very supportive of the Baltics' fight for independence. Thanks to ShrapnelGirl for telling me about this.**

**Hope you all enjoyed this – I loved writing it. I suppose the moral of this story is stay in control of your alcohol intake.**

**Next episode is a fluff-free area, but features plungers, rubber gloves and awesomeness...**


	9. Caught

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd:** **Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my other anonymous readers**

**If this story was written in chronological order (like normal stories) then this should really be chapter 1 (well alright, Winter Night should be chapter 1). Anyway, this is the episode where Latvia first arrives at Russia's house after being captured about ten years after the war.**

**Warnings: **Prussia, swearing

Setting: Mid-1950s

Chapter 9 – Caught

Running wasn't an option anymore. Latvia sat between the two KGB officers in the large black Volga. They were both built like brick outhouses, both with faces like a bag of spanners. She'd been finally caught in the countryside around Riga with a dozen or so others of the Forest Brothers.

They'd all been interrogated, thankfully she hadn't been tortured and, amazingly, they hadn't realised she was a she. So much for intelligence services she thought. She had no idea what had happened to her fellow soldiers but anger burned in her throat and made her brave. After various interrogations, cross-interrogations and someone, she felt very sorry for whoever they were, had snapped, they'd finally found out who she was – the personification of the country of Latvia, now a Soviet Socialist Republic. After the Germans had been defeated in the War, she'd expected, along with many of her countrymen and women that they would be free. It wasn't so. The Soviets had 'sovietized' the country, Russians had been encouraged to migrate there and thousands of native Latvians deported. So she, and many thousands of fellow Baltics – Estonians, Lithuanians, Latvians alike had rebelled.

"Where am I going?" she asked spannerface No. 1.

"Russia," he answered.

"I'm in Russia," she said, peering out of the window at the cityscape of Leningrad.

She'd been ferried from one interrogation centre to another - boring the KGB inquisitors with the smallest detail of her life from brushing her teeth to her penchant for romance novels but not revealing the whereabouts of her fellow resistance fighters or their names. Somehow, she managed to persuade them that she was stupid, ignorant and at the bottom of the pecking order. Finally they'd said they could get no more out of her and she was to be 'liquidated'. Fearing she was off to the Siberian gulags, she'd finally prayed, until they'd pushed her into a car and told her she was going to have a new boss.

The two officers exchanged glances and Latvia sensed what she thought was fear. Surely not?

The car finally pulled up outside a large imposing mansion. On the outside it had the look of a dilapidated museum with peeling paint, some of the window frames were rotten and there were tiles missing from the roof.

The officers got out and indicated Latvia was to follow. She picked up her bag containing her meagre belongings and took a deep breath.

She'd figured she was going to be under the control of the personification of Russia – Ivan Braginski. And, hearing rumours of his terrifying reputation, she felt herself tremble with trepidation. She wondered how long her disguise would last. She decided that as soon as she could, she would escape.

The two officers exchanged nervous looks and then knocked on the door and stepped back hurriedly.

The door was opened by a young-looking man with a kind face. His forest-green eyes regarded them, not without some amusement.

"Can I help you?" he asked, taking in their KGB insignia and talking to them as if they were door-to-door salesmen.

Latvia just stared, everyone was afraid of the KGB, you didn't just stare at them like they were traffic wardens. They were liable to put you on the next train to Siberia for so much as looking at them the wrong way.

"Mr Russia?" she asked timidly. He had to be, she decided.

The young man smiled at her gently and shook his shoulder-length brown hair, "No, Mr Russia is out at the moment," he answered.

The two KGB officers relaxed visibly. One of them pushed her forward, however, "This is Latvia. He's to live with you lot," he said.

"There's no need to be rough!" Latvia turned on the officer.

The officer laughed, towered over the small Nation by several inches and looked ready to pummel her into the ground.

"Erm, General Braginski will be back anytime soon," the young man told the KGB.

The two officers took several steps backward and started for their cars.

"And he won't be happy if he finds you still here pushing his employees around," the brown-haired man called after them.

That did it. The officers jumped in the car and with a screech of tyres sped off down the driveway.

"Come in, you must be Latvia? I'm Lithuania, call me Toris."

Latvia held out her hand, "Hello, I'm erm... Raivis, Raivis Galante." She said - giving her masculine name, just one of many she'd hid under.

Lithuania led the way inside and started to make coffee.

This wasn't so bad, Latvia thought, she'd heard about her fellow Baltics. She'd been born during the Young Latvian Movement, and that's what she now thought of herself – Young Latvia.

"Mr Lithuania..."

"Call me, Toris, Raivis."

"Toris, why did the KGB run off like that?"

"Mr Russia does not like the KGB," he answered and handed her a cup of coffee.

"Oh," Latvia was about to say something else when a voice came from behind them.

"Who's this?"

"Oh! Mr Russia!" Latvia said as she turned around, this wasn't so bad she thought. He seemed really nice.

"No, I'm Estonia, call me Eduard," the young man blushed, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I'm Raivis, erm Latvia. Call me Raivis," she said.

"You're a girl!" Estonia exclaimed.

"He is?" Lithuania took hold of her gently by the shoulders and looked her over.

"Well... yes, I mean... the thing is... I've kept this disguise throughout the War and..." Latvia started to explain.

"Hmmm, perhaps if you kept your hair short..." Estonia mused, his intelligent blue eyes looked her up and down, "Keep that awful baggy green uniform on and we might get away with this."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell Mr Russia?" she asked, "I mean you saw through it straight away."

"The boss is... can be... a bit possessive with people. More so if he thought you were a girl," Lithuania said.

"It could get complicated," Estonia added.

Latvia started trembling.

"He won't notice, not if we tell him you're a boy. His concentration span is not good and his memory's flaky," Estonia explained.

Latvia looked confused, "B...b...b...but why is he...?" she started to ask and stammered. What was wrong with her, she'd never stammered before. But then again she'd never had to live under the rule of Russia before – well, not her personally that is.

"He's had a lot of blows to the head," Estonia explained. "We might just get away with this."

"I don't know... I mean if he finds out we lied..." Lithuania was genuinely worried.

"We just blame it on our usual scapegoat," Estonia said. He saw Latvia's look of confusion and said with a smile, "Prussia."

"Oh."

There was a slam as the huge door was flung open and a voice boomed, "Hi kids, I'm home!"

"That's Mr Russia," Lithuania said, unnecessarily.

The two men hurriedly shoved Latvia between them. One of them, she wasn't sure which one, told her to stand up straight as if to attention. So, there they were, stood like three skittles, she thought.

A tall man wearing a Red Army General's uniform, carrying, rather weirdly she thought, a faucet pipe, strode into the kitchen.

Their fears about her being recognised as a girl were unfounded as Russia ambled past all three, ignored them and switched on the kettle.

"Come on, Toris, coffee. Get a move on," the man said. He then strode out.

He hadn't even noticed her.

Latvia almost fell down with the stress. Toris started to put coffee in mugs, whilst Eduard started, hurriedly and in hushed tones, to give her instructions.

"Don't mention the War. If in doubt just agree with him..."

"...but..."

"Just do it. Honestly, it's easier, unless you want a 4 hour rant or a pipe in your head.

"...oh, but..." Latvia trembled.

"Don't speak German."

"I don't... I ..."

"Ever."

"I won't...I ..."

"Don't speak French either..."

"Oh well, I..."

"Just speak Russian."

"Yes, okay, but..."

"Don't mention Stalin."

"I won't... but do you think...?"

"If he asks you to go down to the basement with him, make up any excuse and don't go. Any excuse. Understand?"

"Yes..." here, Latvia started to shake. 'Oh dear God,' she thought, 'what happened in the basement?'

Estonia thought some more, "And whatever you do, don't let Belarus into the house."

"Who?"

"His sister."

"Why?"

"Don't ask."

"Oh and don't mention America." Here Estonia looked over at Lithuania, who nodded solemnly.

"Oh okay." 'I'm living with a bunch of nutters,' she thought.

Then Russia came back into the kitchen, he'd divested himself of his army greatcoat and fur hat but was still wearing a padded jacket and scarf, which Latvia thought was strange.

"Coffee, Mr Russia," Lithuania gave him a mug and the large Nation sat down with it at the table. He had still not noticed the new addition to the household. He took a bottle of vodka out of one of his many pockets and poured a liberal amount into his coffee and slurped it noisily whilst reading a newspaper.

'This was going to be easy,' Estonia thought.

'Rude sod,' Latvia thought.

"Er, Sir?" Estonia said.

"Hmm, wut?"

"Sir, Latvia arrived today and... he's going to be living with us for the foreseeable future," Estonia ventured.

Russia looked up, puzzled and then stood up. He finally saw the little Nation stood shaking next to Estonia.

He stepped forward and stopped right in front of her, towering over her, she just came up to his chest and she had to tilt back her head to look into his deep violet eyes.

Russia frowned down at her, "You are Latvia? Little Latvia who has been on the run for... what... how many years?"

"Just...just... a few..." she stammered and lowered her head. Estonia nodded in approval.

"What is your name?"

"Raivis Galante," she answered with a bit more confidence and looked back up into his face.

She couldn't really understand now, how on earth she'd misrecognised her fellow Baltics for Russia. The man had such a powerful presence and emanated such an intimidating air, that she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She hurriedly lowered her gaze and took to staring at her shoes.

Russia took hold of her chin and tilted her face back up, "Hmm, you are very small for a Nation, even a small Nation. You are a very young boy, nyet?"

"I...I...I'm not very old, sir... and I'm five feet four..." she answered, but not quiet lying.

Estonia answered for her, "I suppose Latvia hasn't had very much to eat, sir and hasn't had much chance to grow."

"Hmm, da, that will be it, Estonia. But I do not know what we will do with him. I do not need another servant."

"But, sir, if she..." Lithuania stammered and then realised with horror what he'd said and clamped his hand over his mouth.

The three Baltics all held their breath...

"Tut tut, Toris. I know he looks like a girl, but that is very rude," Russia said and laughed. He patted Latvia on the head, with such force she felt as if she were being hammered into the ground.

... and let it out again.

Lithuania tried again, "But sir, if _he_," here Lithuania emphasised the 'he', "doesn't stay here, the KGB will send him to Siberia."

"Hmmm," Russia sighed and looked unhappy at this, "What can you do, little Latvia?"

"Sir?" Latvia said and looked up, hopefully.

"Can you cook?" the Russian asked, "I have Toris who cooks for me, but can you cook as well?"

"Erm..." Latvia thought long and hard, spending the last ten years with the Forest Brothers, basically living on the run, hand to mouth in the forest, had taught her how to kill and skin rabbits and various other small creatures but she had no idea how to cook on a proper stove.

"Well, can you take notes and do my paperwork?" Russia asked and waved a hand at Estonia.

"Well..." Latvia started to tremble. It looked like a one-way ticket to Siberia was on the cards. She was just thinking about throwing herself on her knees and declaring that she was in fact a 'she' and surely even he, the great Russia, with his merciless reputation would not send a female Nation to a gulag?

"He can clean, can't you, Latvia? You could do the laundry and sweep and polish?" Lithuania said hurriedly.

"Yes, yes, I can," she said, 'just like Cinderella,' she thought, 'wonderful, give me the woman's job.'

Russia hummed and then patted Latvia on the head again, "I like you, little Raivis, you can stay," he said, plonked himself back down and started drinking his coffee.

Lithuania took hold of Latvia and led her out, "Come on, we'll find you a room you can have."

* * *

><p>At the very top of the house, in one of several attic rooms, Latvia threw her bag down and looked around at the peeling wallpaper, the metal bedstead (Lithuania promised to find her a mattress from one of the spare beds) and the musty carpet. So this was going to be her home for, how long? She was still planning on escaping as soon as possible.<p>

"You'll be better up here," Lithuania had advised, thinking to himself that if Russia did find out she was a girl, and was going to 'visit' her whilst in a drunken stupor, he'd have to get past himself and Estonia in their respective bedrooms at the foot of the attic stairs first (not that Lithuania thought he could hold Russia off for long) and then he'd have the rickety attic stairs to climb. Lithuania doubted very much if the spindly wooden steps could actually hold Russia's weight. Even if they did, he doubted if Russia in a drunken state would remember what he'd climbed them for in the first place.

Latvia wasn't sure about any of this, but she did decide that at the first opportunity, her sniper rifle would be under her bed in easy reach, along with a knife under her pillow for extra protection.

Then she heard a laugh she had not heard in many years... "Kesese!"

She ventured out onto the landing and looked down at the silver-haired, red-eyed young man waving a plunger in the air, incongruously wearing pink rubber gloves.

"Prussia?" she asked. There was no mistaking that laugh, that stupid hair and the maniacal grin. He'd been in the range of her scope many a time and she'd often itched to pull the trigger... only the idea of killing a fellow Nation had stopped her.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't... erm... who're you then? Another victim for Rapetruck Russia?" the man called.

"R...R...Rapetruck?" she stammered.

"Kesese!" the Prussian laughed hilariously and swaggered down the stairs, "Hey Toris, you bastard!" he yelled.

Russia slammed his study door open and glared at the Prussian and gave an indication that he was to shut his Germanic mouth or he would find a Russian fist in it.

Prussia waited until the Russian went back into his study before making a very obscene gesture at the study door and then slouched into the kitchen. Latvia, watched all this with wide eyes, her mind still numb from the 'Rapetruck' threat, followed him, fascinated like someone who has discovered pond life.

"Toris, I hate you! Stop giving _him_ beans." Prussia pronounced the word _him_ with great contempt, threw the plunger onto the table and pulled off his rubber gloves with, what Latvia thought, was quite a campish gesture.

"Who's the dude?" Prussia asked pointing at Latvia.

"Latvia. He's staying with us. So be nice to him," Toris sighed, removing the plunger from the table with distaste.

"Well, girly, get me a beer. I sure as fuck need one. I've spent one hour in the toilet."

Latvia glared at the Prussian, "I'm not your servant," she said, "Get yourself a beer. And I'm not surprised you just spent an hour in the toilet if all you do is drink beer!"

"Well, you've got balls I'll give you that," Prussia looked her over.

Latvia was about to correct him when she received a warning look from Toris and realised that the 'Awesome One' was not to be trusted.

"Well, Mr Latvia with the huge balls, I'll tell you how it is around here. I do all the shit jobs cos I'm the only one man enough to do them," Prussia started to say.

"...and because Mr Russia hates you," Toris interjected.

"Toris here bakes cookies and if the boss says jump, he says how high," Prussia continued.

Toris ignored this, and continued his rolling out of cookie dough.

"Estonia is the yes man, the geek who does fat commie bastard's paperwork cos fat commie bastard can't read or write. And me? I'm the only dude in this house with the guts to stand up to the big commie bastard. And yes, little girly, I have been in the toilet for the past hour, the longest hour of my long fucking life..." Prussia was almost yelling, "...and do you know what I was doing?"

Latvia shook her head and was now sat watching the Prussian, completely mesmerised.

"...I was unblocking the fucking toilet because fucking Toris feeds the fat commie bastard beans... work it out, dude Latvia person."

"Oh," Latvia said. Wow, he was really dramatic, she thought.

"But I did it awesomely, because I do everything awesomely. You know something else, little dude?"

"What?" Latvia asked, deciding to just play along.

"I'm gonna escape from this shithole and ain't nobody gonna stop me," and with this, Gilbert took a deep draught of his beer and sat back humming some German folk song.

Toris shook his head, he'd heard it all before. He took Latvia to one side. "Ignore him, he's been here five years and he says everyday he's going to escape and we're still waiting. Mr Russia gives him the shittiest jobs because Gil annoys him. Stick with me and Ed, do as we say and we'll get you through this. You'll be okay."

**Author's Notes:**

**This is kind of Latvia's back story that I wrote before I even wrote Baltics Secrets, but I've just added Prussia into it. I wanted to explain why this Latvia is not quite the one in canon – this is the Young Latvia, borne of the Young Latvian movement. I also wanted to give some background as to how they first decide to deceive Russia.**

**The Forest Brothers were a band of Latvian/Estonian/Lithuanian partisans who fought both with the Soviets against the Germans and then against the Soviet occupation of the Baltic States long after the Second World War ended and through much of the communist regime – some did not give up until well into the 1980s. **

**1860s-early 1900s - In the face of stricter "Russification" policies, the Baltic clergy and literati began to take a more benevolent interest in the distinctive language and culture of the Latvian peasantry. These patrons formed the Young Latvian Movement, whose aim was to promote the indigenous language and to publicize and counteract the socio-economic oppression of Latvians.**

**1949 is the year that the German Democratic Republic – the socialist state of East Germany was established. I don't think there's anything in canon that states what Prussia does during/after the war, so I've taken liberties that he had to go and live in Russia's house, so in this episode he's been there around five years. I've seen a lot of Rus/Pru stories which never go well, there's usually rape/abuse involved (which I hate) or there's weird sickly romance which doesn't compute with me. So I've kind of put my own spin on it.**

**Next chapter – Prussia's most awesome escape if anyone wants to read it?**


	10. 24 Part I

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my other anonymous readers**

**This chapter is written as a bit of a parody (what else?) of the TV series 24 – i.e. it's written over a series of 24 hours in the life of the Baltics and Gilbert Beilschmidt. Please note that Gilbert's recollections of his escape in Chapter 16 of Baltics Secrets may not comply with what actually happened.**

**Warnings: Prussia, swearing (not mild swearing either)**

**Setting: Leningrad, 1960 or thereabouts**

Chapter 10 – 24 Part I

00:00-01:00

The most awesome entity on the entire planet was currently sat on a rickety barstool, his elbow in a patch of a wet beer watching as a totally un-awesome far lesser Nation than himself flirted with three women at the same time. Gilbert hated Toris and wondered why on earth he'd brought him to this Soviet shit-hole of a nightclub. Soviets had no idea how to party, Gilbert thought, the dancefloor was practically empty but for some losers drunkenly slow-dancing. Whilst, he, the awesome Prussia was slumped on a barstool whilst one Russian girl who, for a Soviet was quite cute – i.e. not built like a brick outhouse, was asking him for Toris' number and telling him how cute the Lithuanian was.

Gilbert felt sick and it wasn't because of the beer. It was more to do with the blasted Baltic having three women effortlessly draped across him, all three stroking his hair and telling him what beautiful eyes he had. He (Prussia) had tried telling them several times that the Lithuanian was gay, but this just seemed to make them more determined. He'd tried telling them about his awesomeness but they'd ignored him. Toris had told the assembled cooing women that Gilbert worked with him for the same boss. Gilbert had snorted at this and said, "I don't work for no fat commie bastard!" but had been shushed as the girls wanted to hear all about Toris' un-awesome baking and cooking.

"I love a man that can cook!" one woman simpered.

Gilbert could take no more, he ordered another beer. That was another thing about this shithole, there wasn't even any nice barmaids. The bartender was a big, blond Ukrainian guy called Viktor who reminded Gil of someone but he couldn't think who. Probably Russia, Gilbert thought, the guy was built like a truck like Russia... Also the Ukrainian was very annoying and kept calling him 'Gilbert' even though Gil hadn't told him his name.

Estonia sidled up to him, "Are we going yet?" Eduard asked him, "I've done all the business I can here."

Gilbert looked him up and down. "Who the fuck comes to a nightclub dressed in a suit and tie and carries a briefcase? And what business?"

Estonia shrugged, "Property investment," he answered.

Gilbert slid off his barstool and swaggered over to Toris, "Hey Romeo, we're going. Beat it chicks... unless you want to come with us?" he raised an eyebrow and winked at one of them – the one with the biggest... erm assets.

His winks never usually failed.

They did this time.

Toris smiled depreciatingly, "Well, bye ladies," he said.

"Noooo!" the 'ladies' all clung to him,

"I'm coming with you... I'm sure you won't be gay after a night with me..."

"Leave him, he's mine..."

"No, mine..."

Toris smiled softly, "Ladies, ladies, don't fight, perhaps you can all come home with me and we'll have a nice coffee and some cake?"

Gilbert shook his head, "I fucking hate you, Toris," he told the Lithuanian for the fortieth time that night.

Toris smiled somewhat wickedly.

Estonia frowned, "We should get back, Mr Russia told us we should be home by midnight and it's now half past..."

"He ain't my dad," Gilbert snarled as Toris went past, hailing a taxi, three women clinging to his arm. "And what the fuck is it with Toris?" he asked Estonia, pronouncing the name Toris in a weird, high-pitched Russian accent.

"Hmm, Toris is a bit of a dog isn't he?" Eduard said.

01:00-02:00

The Russian taxi driver just raised an eyebrow when the three Nations and three women fell out of his vehicle at Russia's house. Estonia, having taken the front seat had tipped the man quite well, whilst Toris and Prussia had been crammed in the back with three women on their laps. Gilbert hated to admit it, but that was the highlight of his night.

Eduard unlocked the front door and hoped Russia had gone to bed. He turned to shush the others who all slammed into his back. The three girls, in particular, were all giggling madly.

Gilbert was still trying to 'negotiate' with Toris, "You're just being greedy. Let me have one... just one..."

Toris turned to the three girls, "Ladies, do any of you like my friend?"

One of them turned to Eduard and smiled shyly, "Well, actually..."

Eduard almost had a heart attack, flushed bright red and hurried into the living room to check if Russia was around and thinking up an elaborate excuse.

"No, I mean, my friend Gilbert," here Toris pointed at Prussia.

Prussia puffed out his chest, and smoothed down his awesome hair.

The three girls looked him up and down and then shook their heads, and followed Toris into the kitchen like rats following the pied piper.

"Fucking Russians," Prussia growled and slammed past the bewildered Eduard and up the stairs. "Not interested anyway. Not my type. None of them have big enough boobs. I fucking hate this country. Stupid Russians. I hate Toris." Prussia grumbled to himself as he stomped up the stairs to his room. He slammed past Russia's huge bedroom at the front of the house, thought about making 'akk akk' and other such explosion/gunfire noises to wind the big idiot up and get him slamming about the house, but thought better of it. He really needed to get some sleep and if Russia slammed about, sure he would disturb Toris and his 'harem', but Prussia would also be disturbed as well. Not cool.

Too late, Russia opened the door and glared at Gilbert. Ivan had obviously been fast asleep, his blue sunflower pyjamas (which always made Gilbert laugh out loud, how uncool was this guy?) were rumpled and his hair was stuck up on end, "Who's making that row?" Russia did not like being wakened and his right hand tightened around his metal pipe.

"Toris," Gilbert said, shrugging and swaggered on his way. 'Fuck me, the guy must sleep with that pipe,' Gil thought to himself.

Russia leaned over the landing, "Toris, keep it down. And who is giggling?" Russia yelled. He was sure he heard female giggling. And then a horrid thought hit him. It was Belarus. It had to be. Somehow she'd infiltrated his house. He backed away, and practically ran back to his bedroom and then barricaded the door with a chest of drawers. He sat back on his bed with his vodka, resumed the knitting he'd been doing before he'd been woken and watched the door with trepidation.

Toris, wisely, ignored his boss and continued to entertain his guests.

Eduard was stowing his paperwork away in the safe in Russia's study. The safe Russia didn't know he had. The one in the wall behind the painting of the Battle of Moscow. 'One day I will be rich,' the Estonian thought.

Latvia, who thought she'd heard yelling – worse, Russian yelling, cuddled back down in her bed with her hot-water bottle and her romance novel. 'This book is rubbish,' she thought, 'I could write better stuff than this. How hard can it be?'

02:00-03:00

Finally, the house was quiet. However, not all the occupants were asleep.

Prussia was studying the most recent map of Eastern Europe he could get his hands on. On it he had labelled routes in red and made calculations (many of them wrong). It was time he left, he decided. He should have done it years ago.

He hated the house, the occupants and his boss. Well, actually he liked the little Latvian guy who he tried to irritate at every given opportunity – and it worked. Who knew that by just calling a guy 'girlie' would elicit so much trouble and, weirdly, from Toris?

He actually liked Estonia, although the guy was so un-awesome as to be off the radar. 'What a loser', Gilbert thought, 'yes, sir, no, sir when do you want your dick licking, sir? Jesus, get a life.'

And then there was Toris. The bane of his existence. Toris was the boss' favourite Baltic. Baking cookies all the time. Wow, could the guy get any further up Russia's arse? Toris ran the household and if you upset Toris you upset the boss.

The boss, now Prussia hated Russia with all his heart and with all the awesomeness that was his soul. He hated the way the guy had taken half of Germany – his half and turned it into an un-awesome socialist republic.

Granted, Prussia hated the fascists and what they'd done do his country just as much, if not more than Russia did, but he hated communism even more.

Then there was the way the 'fat commie bastard' called them all 'his' as if they were his pets. This also made Prussia want to retch. He hated the way Russia would and could pound him into the ground whenever he sang a German folk song and/or the Prussian anthem/did goosesteps up and down the hallway.

He hated the way the fat commie bastard snored so loudly it sounded like there was an express train coming down the hallway. He hated the way the guy ate – like a garbage disposal unit. He hated the way the fat commie bastard could make him shiver just by looking at him with those weird purple eyes. Prussia looked in the mirrior at his own awesome red eyes. What kind of loser has purple eyes anyway? Even the way the guy breathed annoyed Prussia. And the humming...

A plan, that's what he needed. He strained his ears to listen as he heard Toris and some girls come giggling up the stairs, a door closed and very subtly, a voice called, "Oooh Toris!"

He waited and hoped against hope that Russia would burst out of his room like an out-of-control locomotive and pound the favourite Baltic in the head. He slumped into bed and swore he would get out of this 'crapsack' place once and for all.

Russia was actually fast asleep, his knitting on his lap beside his faucet pipe, but dreaming horrid dreams of Belarus giggling while advancing upon him with knives and handcuffs.

03:00-04:00

General Winter paid the city of Leningrad and Russia's house a visit. As it was the month of October, it was quite an early visit and it was to be a short visit. A winter storm came in from the chilly Gulf of Finland, whipping up storm force gales which lashed at the house. The winds licked at the already loose tiles on the old shingle roof and several fell clattering into the garden below.

04:00-05:00

Russia's next door neighbour, Madame Tsaratova, had been living next door to the her Nation for the last 20 years (although she didn't know he was a Nation, she just assumed he was a regular psycho) and was currently out in the her garden in her dressing gown and slippers looking up at Russia's roof tiles which were being tossed around as if by some giant playing dominoes. She tutted. She'd told Toris – although she didn't know his name, only that he was the one who looked like a girl but wasn't but needed to get his hair cut, as opposed to the one who was a girl but pretended to be a boy and needed to grow her hair – that they should get their roof fixed before winter arrived. As expected, she hadn't been wrong.

05:00-06:00

General Winter, having given Russia's house a good shake and left his 'calling card' of an inch of snow, left, no doubt to bother some other Nation. But by leaving slates and window shutters banging he left Russia a reminder that he would be returning soon.

06:00-07:00

The KGB surveillance night team, four-strong, sat in their undercover vehicle, an ice-cream van, at the end of Russia's driveway. They existed on copious amounts of caffeine, cigarettes and pastries, therefore, they were all several stone overweight, asthmatic and well on their way to heart disease, diabetes and high blood pressure. Their job was to listen in to the bugs strategically placed in Russia's house and watch/listen to the occupants in their everyday lives and report back to the powers-that-be. This was the hour they had been waiting for – when their shift would be relieved by the day shift. They had not signed up for this. They'd expected a career fighting terrorists, fascists and threats to the Motherland, not listening to their Nation humming, singing, farting or shouting at his hapless subordinates.

07:00-08:00

Toris, the Romeo, the Casanova, the Don Juan (all Prussia's sneering terms for him) yawned as he lit the stove and started to make a large pot of coffee. He pulled his dressing gown around him shoved a large pot of porridge on top of the burners to heat up and stumbled back upstairs to get dressed. Then he stopped and remembered he had three girls to get out of the house before Russia woke.

08:00-09:00

"I fucking hate this place. It's always me who does all the manly jobs around here." The speaker was Prussia and he was sat at the table, studiously ignoring two girls, still dressed in nightclub-wear who were all gazing at Toris as if he were some kind of sex God.

Toris ignored him and them. His efforts to get them out had been thwarted several times, neither seemed to want to go and the third was still asleep in his bed. He was worried about the third one. He hoped she hadn't eaten any of the boss' cookies.

"You always say that, Gilbert. But you never do anything about it," Latvia told him, whilst she shoved sheets, socks, underpants (she grimaced at these) and various scarves into the washing machine until it was loaded to capacity. It was a Monday so that meant laundry day. The Baltics' washing machine was their pride and joy. One of the first fully automatic washing machines available in Russia, they'd all (including the boss) spent a whole afternoon just watching the washing go round and round, completely mesmerised.

Gilbert grumbled and was about to head outside, grab the ladder and make a start on putting the roof tiles back where they should be, when Russia came in.

Gilbert stopped. He normally avoided Russia as if the latter Nation was the Black Death, but this time he wanted to see what Russia's reaction would be to the young, barely-clad girls sat in his kitchen.

Latvia also stood and watched. She loved Lithuania like a brother, followed his example as best she could and so far had 'survived' living in Russia's house, but she also wanted to see the 'show'.

"Where's my coffee, Toris? And who's been eating my cookies?" Russia asked, poking at the plate of depleted cookies, gave the pot of porridge a contemplative stir, rubbed his blond hair ruminatively, glared at Gilbert and asked the Prussian, "Why aren't you outside fixing the roof?" and then ambled back out.

"What an idiot! He must go around with his eyes closed!" Latvia exclaimed.

Toris shushed her.

"I know, right, Raivis? What a loser. Can't see what's in front of him. Come on, girlie, give me a hand with these ladders," Gilbert trudged out grumbling.

"Sod off, Gil, I've got the washing to do," Latvia called after him.

"Wooo, little Latvia with the huge balls, don't get your pants in a twist, dude," Gilbert lit a cigarette and contemplated his existence whilst also contemplating the roof tiles.

Russia trudged down the hallway to his study, stopped, frowned, thought for a minute and then trudged back to the kitchen. He gazed at the two girls, thinking for a minute he was seeing things, "Who are they?" he asked Toris. Toris, he thought, knew everything.

"Don't worry, Sir, they're Avon ladies – come to see Pol."

"Polska doesn't live here," Russia growled dangerously.

"No, Sir," Lithuania agreed and handed Russia a mug of coffee, whilst winking at the girls behind Russia's back. They both giggled nervously.

Latvia watched, fascinated.

Russia considered this, appeared to accept the facts, turned to the girls and said, "Privet ladies, I hope Toris is looking after you?"

"Oh, he is," one of the girls answered in quite a lewd way, Latvia thought. The other giggled.

Russia frowned, he would never understand this younger generation. He also thought what they were wearing was not appropriate for late autumn in Leningrad, but decided he'd better not say anything.

09:00-10:00

Gilbert, the most awesome Nation that ever existed or would _ever _exist was freezing his Prussian balls off trying to hammer tiles back on the roof. Russia's house was four storeys high and Gilbert could see clearly Leningrad in all its Soviet shittiness. "I hate my life." He muttered as he hammered another nail in – imagining it to be Russia's head. He looked down the ladder to see Latvia hanging washing out, he wolf-whistled at the young Baltic and was rewarded with a rude middle-finger salute. At least there was someone else who had a shitty life, he thought.

At the other side of the house he could see two girls being helped into a taxi by Toris, each were simpering at him, stroking his hair and making eyes at him. "Hey! Toris! You lazy bastard! Get some fucking work done or I'll tell the boss," Gilbert yelled and almost fell off the roof, hammer in hand as he did so.

Toris turned as the taxi drove off and cheerily waved at the Prussian.

Toris looked so bloody sweet and innocent, Gilbert thought, but he couldn't forget the Battle of Tannenburg without physically shuddering.

And why hadn't Toris had his arse kicked by the fat Russkie for having girls around? Gilbert sighed, and began hammering again.

10:00-11:00

Gilbert fixed the final tile onto the roof, wiped his hands, and threw a snowball at the spacey Baltic hanging out men's underpants below him.

"Kesese! Girly loves my knickers!" he yelled.

"Fuck off, Gilbert," Latvia yelled back. Toris banged on the kitchen window at her and shook his head admonishingly.

Latvia never used to swear until she'd arrived at Russia's house, but honestly, Prussia made her swear. He insisted on calling her 'girly', 'pansy' and 'chick' whenever he could which annoyed the hell out of her. Granted she was a 'girly' but he didn't know that. The Baltics didn't trust Prussia and his huge, ginormous mouth with such a delicate secret.

11:00-12:00

The Awesome One was sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer and wondering how to make Russia's day as awful as his own. He had several options. He could put the 1812 Overture on the turntable and sit back and watch the fall-out. Or he could ring Belarus and ask her to come over, telling her that her dear brother was drunk or that he'd got some girl. That was also good for a laugh.

Of course, when he'd joined Russia's household a few years before, Toris had told him the 'Golden Rules'. However, in the Prussian's eyes, rules were made to be broken. Speaking in German and gobbing about Berlin and Hitler (who was also a first-class dickhead) though only gained him a black eye and split lip which wasn't awesome.

Instead, Gilbert eyed Lithuania and Latvia peeling and chopping potatoes and decided to drop a verbal bomb.

"Hey, what happened to that other girl?" he asked innocently.

Lithuania froze. He'd forgotten there was still a barely-clad, probably drugged with Lithium girl in his room.

Latvia giggled, "Oooh Toris, you're such a dog."

The doorbell rang.

Gilbert laughed, "Kesese! I'll get that!" he said and made his most awesome way to the door, flung it open. "Dude?" he asked the man standing in front of him.

"I've come for my daughter," the man said, "Her friends told me she was here."

Gilbert looked him up and down, the guy was quite big and wore a Red Army greatcoat and uniform and, even more interesting, he was carrying a rifle.. Another sodding Russkie commie bastard, Gilbert thought, "Come in," he said and swaggered back into the kitchen.

"Hey Toris, there's a man in the hallway looking for his daughter."

Latvia hadn't known Lithuania for very long but had seen him deal with Russia's temper and moods with the utmost calm and patience and had never seen the Lithuanian flustered. He was, literally, her hero.

Lithuania frowned for a moment, handed his potato peeler to Latvia, calmly took off his apron and went into the hallway.

"Can I help you, Sir?" he asked the Army Officer.

"My name's Major Igor Knockemoff and my daughter's friends say they stayed here last night," here the officer waved his gun at Toris, " and apparently they stayed with some stud," here the officer cocked the rifle and undid the safety catch, "who then kicked them out and now I want to take my daughter home and kick this stud's arse."

Toris swallowed. Behind him in the doorway, Latvia and Prussia watched – the former with worried wide eyes, the latter grinning.

And just to add to the confusion, Russia came out of his study. Any excuse to distract him from paperwork was welcome. Estonia followed him.

"Is there a problem, Toris?" he asked.

"Erm..." Toris struggled to think up a plan. How to explain the girl up in his bed?

"General Braginski?" the man asked and gaped at Russia. "My God! You were my commanding officer in the War..." the man extended a hand which Russia took and grasped in his own larger one, "It's incredible, you look exactly the same..." the man said wonderingly. He himself was getting on for nearly sixty years old and thought Russia was the same age.

"You both fought in the War, Sir?" Toris asked Russia.

"Da, we did. The 1st Shock Army," Russia nodded.

"I'll bet it was a bloody shock having him in charge," Prussia mumbled to Latvia.

"You should both get re-acquainted," Toris said, and, like a magician, produced a bottle of vodka, two glasses and steered the two men into the living room.

"Toris, you sly old fox," Gilbert said.

12:00-13:00

A whole hour was spent with Toris and Raivis trying to get a giggling, non-compliant girl out of the house. It had taken a good twenty minutes before she'd actually come round from the drugs in the cookie. Evidently, Russia's fast metabolism meant they didn't affect him the same way, which was a pity the two Nations thought. The girl also didn't seem to want to get dressed or leave Toris at all.

"I love you!" she told him.

"You've only just met me!" Toris told her, "I live in this awful house and have a very cruel boss..."

"I will save you..." she said, "Come with me."

Toris shook his head, "My place is here with my friends," he said gallantly.

Latvia was shoving the girl in a spare coat and trying to get her out of the door. However, as they got to the landing, they heard the unmistakable sound of Russia's army boots clomping up the stairs.

"I will give you a grand tour of my house, comrade Major!" Russia was saying.

They shoved the girl back in and surveyed their options.

Perhaps a knotted sheet wasn't the best option, and it was certainly not one of Toris' best ideas. However, it was the only thing they could think of. The girl wouldn't fit under Toris' bed and the wardrobe was also too small. So they improvised.

13:00-14:00

Gilbert stood under Lithuania's window and watched in fascination as a barely conscious, giggling Russian girl wearing Latvia's old winter jacket tried to scrabble down what looked like two sheets knotted together.

"Kesese!" Gilbert laughed. He was actually going to miss these antics when he was gone. He started singing Preuβenlied and goose-stepped around a bit, while Toris gave encouragement to the girl scrabbling down the sheet.

"Just a bit more... a few more inches..."

"Kesese! I bet that's what you said last night, Toris you dog!" Prussia called up.

Latvia snorted with laughter and Toris glared at her. Just then the bedroom door opened and Russia, Estonia and Major Knockemoff walked in.

Toris and Latvia let go off the sheet in surprise and the girl fell, landing in Prussia's arms.

"Ha! I am so awesome!" the Prussian yelled.

"This is Toris' room and..." Russia ground to halt when he saw Lithuania and Latvia stood by the window looking very guilty.

"Toris! Raivis! What you doing here? Raivis, why are you in Toris' room?" He asked them and turned to Major Knockemoff and was about to apologise for his subordinates' tardiness when they heard a yell from below.

"Get off me!"

"I saved your life! If it wasn't for my awesome reflexes you would be dead or something..."

Russia shoved Lithuania and Latvia out of the way and looked out to see Prussia and a girl arguing in the garden below.

"Get your hands off me!"

Prussia dropped the girl with aplomb, "I bloody hate Russians anyway," he said.

"That's my daughter!" Major Knockemoff yelled.

"Daddy!" the girl called up to the window.

Russia growled, "Gilbert! You have been abducting young girls and... and..." Russia was lost for words.

Prussia raised his right arm and pointed at Toris and shouted, "It wasn't me it was him." But, whether it was the way he stuck his arm out or the stance he took – either way, the fact was that to Russia it looked very much like a Nazi salute.

Russia went red with rage, shoved everyone out of his way, began 'kolkolling', took Mr Pipe out of his pocket and slammed down the stairs to pound the small Prussian into the ground.

"Kesese!" Prussia grabbed the girl, planted a large kiss on her lips. Might as well be punched for _something_ he thought, and sped off.

**Author's Notes:**

**I doubt there were Avon Ladies in the Soviet Union in the 1960s.**

**The Battle of Tannenburg or the Battle of Grunwald was where the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth fought the Teutonic Knights after the Knights had been trying to convert the 'pagan' Lithuanians over to Christianity. This battle was a crushing defeat for Gilbert (Teutonic Knights).**

**Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture commemorates Russia's defence of Moscow against Napoleon's forces – it incorporated cannon fire.**

**Preuβenlied – the Prussian national anthem.**

**Sorry, this chapter went on longer than I expected, part two of Prussia's awesome escape coming up. May include Dude Den, France, an ice cream van, male strippers, a singing telegram and Belarus.**


	11. 24 Part II

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Part II of Prussia's most awesome escape (please note it does not comply with his own recollection from Baltic Secrets Chapter 16 - well only a little)**

**Warnings: **Prussia, swearing (not mild swearing either), France, Belarus

Setting: Leningrad, 1960 or thereabouts

Chapter 10 – 24 Part II

14:00-15:00

Prussia sped down the side of the house, stopped at the study window, still singing to himself, jimmied the window open and threw himself into the room when he heard Russia slamming the kitchen door open and heading for the garden.

"Kesese!" the Prussian laughed to himself, "Fat commie's gotta be faster than that to catch the awesome me! Nobody can stop me!" he picked himself up to head upstairs to his room to get some gear before getting the hell out, and promptly tripped and fell on Russia's desk. He swore to himself and was about to walk on when the telephone on the desk caught his eye.

He picked up the receiver and proceeded to make a few choice telephone calls.

"Belarus! Yes, it's me... no me... ME... Prussia... stupid woman... yes I know you will disembowel me when you see me... but guess what my little dragon? Your dear idiotic brother... yes, yes I know you're going to kill me... is lying here blind drunk as I speak... yes he is... I know you do... and he's calling for you... he's calling... Bela... Bela..." Prussia kesesed and hung up, "Fucking weirdo, nice boobs though, pity..." he said and proceeded to dial another number.

"Yo Francis, my main man! Yeah... yeah... dude, listen... okay... you did? Man, that's not nice... you're one weird dude, man... Guess what...?" Prussia paused as he heard kolkolling outside and then lowered his voice, "... yeah, dude Ivan wants you to come over and take him by surprise. I know... right? Yeah, bring that as well...bye!"

"Hello is that Leningrad Hottigram? Yes, I want to order three male strippers for the following address... "

Russia charged through the garden, kolkolling, looking for the 'little Teutonic idiot' to punch.

Toris shouted from the window, "He was in the greenhouse, Sir!" and then hurried downstairs after Latvia. He hoped he'd bought Gilbert enough time to get out of the way and perhaps calm Russia down. However, Latvia was not impressed.

"My greenhouse!" she yelled and dashed after Russia. Her fear of him completely gone. The greenhouse was her pride and joy, her sanctuary, where she grew tomatoes, cucumbers and sunflowers and generally hid away from the others (although actually you can't really hide in a greenhouse).

Major Knockemoff was hugging his daughter, "I'm glad you're alright, let's get out of here," he told her. But he was stopped by Toris.

"Erm, Comrade Major? I'm sure when this is all sorted, General Braginski will be very sad to see that you've gone without having a vodka with him." Toris told him. Thinking that after a few vodkas Russia would calm down.

The Major, remembering General Braginski's more extreme exploits during the War whilst he was under his command, decided that making his former commanding officer 'sad' or eliciting any other negative emotion could have very destructive effects, decided to stay and just nodded at Toris.

Toris smiled at Miss Knockemoff and led them back to the house, calling to Latvia, "Raivis, get the boss back in the house if you can."

Estonia was trying to find Prussia and perhaps get him to hide until the boss had calmed down enough that he didn't kill the little son of a bitch. Honestly, Estonia thought, Prussia always made their lives far more difficult than they needed to be.

He found the idiotic Prussian in the study.

"So yes, a whole band? Tapdancing singers? You got the song? Good, thank you..." he slammed the phone down.

Estonia cocked an eyebrow, "What are you up to?" he asked the Prussian.

"Kesese! Wouldn't you like to know? Hahaha, Esty, you need to grow some balls, yes sir, no sir, whose balls are you gonna lick when you get independence?" Prussia asked him as he shoved past him, patting the Estonian on the cheek.

Eduard winced and pulled away. But he said nothing, let the idiot think they (the Baltics) were all meek, little 'yes men'.

* * *

><p>15:00-16:00<p>

Russia had flung open the greenhouse door and was swishing Mr Pipe around trying to flush out Prussia. He moved aside several late flowering sunflowers as if Gilbert could be hiding behind them and then his rage intensified, his aura shimmered and he almost howled with annoyance.

"Sir! Don't hurt my plants," Latvia called as she approached. With remarkable courage – certainly the only bravery shown by anyone that day – and barely trembling at all, Latvia stepped in front of him as he raised his faucet pipe.

Russia stopped dead, growling at his smallest Baltic. She raised her hands to cover her head but looked up at him with big, pleading, blue eyes.

Everyone assumed Toris was the favourite Baltic – Russia usually described him as such after all – but in actual fact it was Raivis. Raivis was so small, cute, mild and quiet (around him that is) and Russia often thought the little Baltic was the most huggable and would look even cuter in cat ears...

"Sir?" she whispered tentatively, wincing, ready for a blow that didn't actually come.

Russia lowered his pipe and fluffed the Baltic's hair. "Aw, little Raivis. Why would I hurt the beautiful sunflowers?" he said amiably, his aura just as suddenly wavering and dissipating. He paused for a long moment looking down at the 'little one' and wondering why 'he' looked familiar. Something nudged at his memory...

And then he remembered... "Gilbert..." he roared, slammed back out of the greenhouse and resumed his rampage.

Toris was in the kitchen where he'd managed to push his guests and started to serve up beef Stroganoff. Major Knockemoff was feeling more and more like a hostage was sat at the table trying desperately to follow Toris' lead and ignore the kolkolling outside. His daughter kept smiling at Toris and every-time the Lithuanian went past her she surreptitiously pinched his rather cute bottom.

Toris opened the back door and called, "Lunch! Come on everybody, while it's hot!" as if they were children gone out to play and then counted to ten. He didn't get to five before Russia almost took the kitchen door off.

"Is it lunch-time? I'm starving," he said, threw his pipe on the floor and proceeded to shovel food into his mouth with a large spoon.

Latvia followed him in, sat down and looked at Lithuania quizzically, "Where's the idiot?" she mouthed.

Lithuania frowned, "You mean Gilbert?" he asked her, mouthing the words.

Latvia raised an eyebrow as if to say, well who else? The other idiot was sat next to her feeding his face.

Lithuania shrugged.

Estonia strolled in and pointed above his head at Latvia's question as to where the 'Prussian idiot was' – meaning Gilbert was in his room not stuck to the ceiling. The Baltics had long perfected the art of mime.

Major Knockemoff coughed politely, "Erm, thank you for your hospitality, but we really should be going..."

Russia looked up startled. When Russia was eating, all other thoughts went out of his head. Food for him was a very serious business. He'd completely forgotten about his 'guest'. In fact, Toris' cooking was so good, he'd forgotten at that moment about pounding Prussia into dust in favour of eating his Stroganoff.

"I thought you were going to drink some vodka with me?" Russia said. "I will not be very happy if you leave without reminiscing about the War..."

The Baltics all shared a 'look'. It was never good for Russia to remember the War.

And then... all hell broke loose.

* * *

><p>16:00-17:00<p>

The opening bars of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture wafted their way into the kitchen. Lithuania froze mid-spoonful. Latvia looked up in shock. Estonia said "Who would...?"

Russia stood up abruptly, upsetting the table and the contents, "I know who would..." he said dangerously and picked up his pipe.

"Kesese! Losers!" Prussia yelled and, before Russia had even got to the kitchen door, Gilbert was out the front door, holding Major Knockemoff's rifle.

"Kolkolkol," Russia slammed down the hallway after the Prussian.

Major Knockemoff had already grabbed his daughter and was also about to get the hell out. It had taken him almost twenty years to forget that kolkol, he still woke up in cold sweats in the middle of the night, thinking he could hear it.

Toris stopped him, "Please don't go," he said, almost pleadingly.

The girl (Toris was ashamed he still didn't know her name) looked at Toris and then at her father, "Oh Daddy, can we stay a bit longer?"

The Major did not have time to answer and if he had said no, well, there was not a lot he could do about it as, with a sinking feeling in his chest, he heard his motorbike outside being started up and skidding around in the driveway outside.

'This was awesome, I am awesome', Prussia thought, as he rode the motorbike round and round Russia's driveway in circles, the big commie bastard in the middle swinging his un-awesome pipe around flailing madly.

"Kesese! You'll never get me you big fat commie bastard!" Prussia yelled. "And wait til you see the parting gifts I've left you... see yer later, yer big loser!" and with that he skidded off down the driveway, firing shots from his stolen rifle as he went.

To say Russia was angry, was a very grave understatement. If steam could have come out of his ears, it would have done. He snarled, gripping his faucet pipe so hard his knuckles were white, as he watched the Prussian skid out of sight. He then slammed the front door off its hinges, crashed through the hallway, threw the turntable (still playing Tchaikovsky's masterpiece) onto the floor and picked up the telephone and started dialling.

Someone had obviously just picked up the phone at the other end of the line because Russia snarled some instructions into it and then suddenly looked up. His pipe, which had been tapping a rhythm against the wall next to him, was slammed so hard into the brick wall that the plaster came off in a huge chunk.

The Baltics, the Major and his daughter hid in a huddle behind the kitchen door, Lithuania, at the front, was peering around the doorway.

The whole of the hallway had been spray-painted in bright red letters – PRUSSIA ROOLZ.

Russia howled with rage and slammed down the hallway, his pipe crashing against the walls as he went, his purple aura blazing around his shoulders.

"I've seen him destroy whole German battalions like this," the Major whispered, holding his daughter firmly.

"We're going to have to call the plasterers in," Eduard said.

Raivis shook, trembling from head to foot behind Toris.

Then the doorbell rang.

Toris skidded out of the kitchen, ducked under Russia's pipe and answered the remains of the front door with as much dignity as having a 6 foot, 200 pound nutter swinging a faucet pipe around your head would allow.

"May I help you?" he asked the strange ensemble on the doorstep.

There were three men in straw boater hats, pinstripe trousers and stripy blazers carrying canes and accompanying them was a small brass band.

"Message for Mr Braginski," one of the men said, apparently not phased at all by the splintered remains of the front door.

Russia, suddenly, in all his purple haze glory, appeared behind Toris. Raivis and Eduard came up behind as the band started up a jaunty tune and the singers began.

_You're not very awesome _

_Your hair is flat_

_You say kol kol_

_And you're really fat! _

(Russia whispered to Toris, his voice with a hint of steel to it, "I'm not fat am I, Toris?" Toris shook his head, "No, Sir, you've lost a couple of pounds, I think".)

_You're just a..._

_Big fat commie bastard, _

(here, the three singers danced up and down, their canes tapping to the beat, Raivis tapped her feet and sang along very very quietly – she'd heard this song so many times when Prussia was unblocking the toilet)

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commieeeeeeee BASTARD!_

_You make me do shit jobs_

_Like cleaning your loo,_

_You're not very smart_

_You need to get a clue_

_And you stink of vodka too! _

(Russia sniffed inside his scarf tentatively - it was true, he did smell of vodka)

_You're just a..._

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commieeeeeeee BASTARD!_

_And your house is crap_

_Everything shit is Russian_

_You should change nationality_

_Cos awesomeness is Prussian_

_And I'm leaving this shithole, cause you're just a ..._

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commie bastard,_

_Big fat commieeeeeeee BASTARD!_

As the finishing last note died away there was an awful, long silence. Latvia clapped slowly and then stopped abruptly when Estonia nudged her.

The three singers glanced at one another, bowed and were punched in the face by Russia – all three falling like dominoes.

He then grabbed a trombone and wrapped it around its owner's head, a trumpet met the same fate and Russia was about to shove a euphonium somewhere when a car pulled up and three police officers got out.

Toris immediately approached them, "Look, if you've come to arrest someone..."

But he was shushed as one of the men put a finger on his lips rather camply and said, "Hey honey, just shush your talking and enjoy the show."

Toris frowned. This wasn't normal for officers of the Leningrad Police Authority.

What they did next was not normal for regular police officers either – one of them placed a ghetto blaster on the ground, switched it on and they started to take their clothes off to the music.

Russia had no idea what on earth they were doing. It wasn't that warm. Why were they taking off their shirts? And why were they swinging their batons around?

Toris quickly clamped a hand over Latvia's eyes and said to Estonia, "What the fuck is going on?"

Estonia shook his head, but he had a good idea who was behind it.

At least the remarkable sight of three Leningrad Police Officers throwing off their clothes had stopped Russia in his tracks.

"Why are they taking off their trousers, Toris?" he asked his eldest Baltic.

Latvia shoved Lithuania's hands off her eyes to get a look.

"So whose birthday is it again?" one of the strippers asked as his trousers went flying and landed on the trombone-player's stunned face.

"I wish it were mine!" Latvia squeaked.

* * *

><p>17:00-18:00<p>

Prussia skidded down the road and on to freedom. He thought. He passed the car carrying the strippers on their way to sure-fire havoc at Russia's house and a taxi carrying France and Belarus – the two Nations had met at the Leningrad Airport and were arguing vehemently about who was going to be the one who 'took Ivan by surprise'.

"Kesese!" Prussia laughed, "Freedom!" he yelled and then the motorbike stalled and stopped. "Fuck!" he yelled and turned the key – nothing. He jumped off the vehicle and started kicking it, still nothing. Then he realised, the damn thing was out of fuel.

"Big brother is mine!" Belarus yelled at France.

France smoothed down his silky blond locks, "Sweetheart, I got an urgent call from Gil saying your _big _brother wanted to be taken by surprise, oh yes."

Belarus did not like the way France over-pronounced the word 'big'. She took out one of her knives, "I'll fight you for him," she said, twirling the knife slowly in her hand.

"Mon dieu!" France exclaimed. "Perhaps, Mademoiselle Belarus, we should see who he chooses, non?"

"Of course he will choose me," she said, but with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I have my most seductive underwear on," she said and then smoothed down her skirt, checking over her stockings and suspenders.

France did the same... "Ze battle is on! Honhonhon!" he said as the taxi pulled up on Russia's driveway.

Meanwhile, down at the end of the road, the KGB were having problems of their own. Firstly, they had run out of coffee, secondly, a short silver-haired Prussian had leapt into the van and was aiming a rifle at their faces.

Prussia hadn't realised they were the KGB, he thought he was kicking the arse of an ordinary ice-cream van man. Kicking KGB arse was just a bonus.

"Kesese! Losers!" he yelled as he kicked them out of the van, threw their listening equipment after them, started the engine and drove for freedom before the 'big commie bastard' could sprint down the road after him.

The big commie bastard wasn't running anywhere. He had so many people to hit, he was spoilt for choice.

Perhaps the real breaking point was when one of the strippers (ascertaining that Russia was 'Ivan Braginski') started grinding against him. Russia completely lost the plot at this point and almost took the man's head off with a punch. He picked the prone stripper's body up and threw it at his colleagues. They all fell in a heap of various states of undress.

At that moment, a taxi pulled up and a breathless and still arguing France and Belarus jumped out.

It was, France would admit to himself later, probably the beginning of one of the best evenings of his very long and debauched life.

"Mon dieu! Beyond my wildest dreams!" he laughed, his hands clasped together in utter joy.

Russia growled at him, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah mon Ivan! I have come to... to... ah!" France was overcome as one of the strippers, disentangled himself from his colleagues and the brass band members and tried to replace his clothes.

"Oooh what a beautiful state of dishabille... honhonhon. You are a professional, non?" Francis asked the stripper.

"Da, but I haven't been stripping for very long and I didn't expect to get beaten up," the young man said, and risked a glare at Russia and then touched his split lip and bruised eye tentatively.

"Ah mon ange! Moi, aussi. I have stripped for the best..."

"You have?"

"Ah, oui. I have been an exotic dancer for many years... perhaps I teach you ze art?" Francis raised an eyebrow at the young man.

It was true, Francis had been a stripper/exotic dancer for many years – completely un-paid and un-called for.

Belarus was outraged, "What are all these men doing here?" she asked Lithuania.

Lithuania gazed at her dreamily, "Miss Belarus, you are looking so beautiful today," he told her.

"I hope they are not here to steal my brother away from me?" she said in a grim voice.

It is unsure just what planet Belarus lived on – clearly one where Russia could be 'stolen away' by a brass band and a trio of rather camp strippers.

Russia had no intention of anyone else telling him he was a 'big fat commie bastard' (no matter how melodious the singing or how good the tap-dancing), nor was he going to stand about while a clearly gay male stripper tried to grind away against his thigh. He took matters into his own hands – with Mr Pipe and proceeded to make his feelings very clear.

Unfortunately, or fortunately whichever way you want to look at it, Belarus got in the way.

Latvia punched the air when she saw Belarus' knees knocked out from under her by Mr Pipe (Russia was aiming for one of the male strippers – who in turn had been being berated by Belarus whilst hiding behind an ecstatic France). Belarus fell to the ground and was knocked cold.

* * *

><p>18:00-19:00<p>

Prussia headed for the Soviet-Finnish border, with a convoy of Red Army trucks on his tail. It would have been the ultimate in awesomeness if the van had: (A) ice lollies in the freezer (the KGB actually did have a freezer with ice cream in it – purely for cover purposes) and (B) a more awesome 'jingle' to play on its loud speakers than 'Pop Goes the Weasel'.

However, it was good enough, he floored the accelerator and lit a cigarette (also stolen from the KGB), "Kesese!" he was going to rescue his fellow Awesome Trio dude, 'Dude Den' from his servitude at Sweden and Finland's house and then high-tail it through eastern Europe and back to his little brother Ludwig who no doubt, he thought, would be delighted to see him, and ultimately into the annals of history.

Something else that went down in the annals of history – Russia held his little sister in his arms, willingly. However, Belarus was unconscious as he did so.

"Natty! Natty! My little sister! I didn't mean to hurt her..." he loved his little sister, he honestly did, even when she was clinging to him, chasing him, slashing him with knives. He lost count of the number of times he'd hid in wardrobes because of her, but he'd never struck her before.

Toris prised the young Belorussian out of Russia's arms and gently picked her up, "Don't worry, Sir, I'll get her to hospital," he said and carried her to the taxi.

The taxi driver had never had a day like it – he just gawped at the remnants of the brass band – its members lying in various states of entanglement with their instruments. Whilst the three male strippers were being 'comforted' by France.

Estonia dug into his sizeable wallet and handed the band and the strippers a bundle of roubles. "Please leave," he said, almost pleadingly.

France, seeing how the land lay, said, "Honhonhon, do not worry, my leetle Estonia, I will take care of zem! Oh yes..."

Estonia went back inside and made a few choice phone calls to the powers-that-be.

* * *

><p>19:00-20:00<p>

Prussia and Denmark were on the road to freedom. Well, actually they were on the road to Sweden, but sat in a lay-by selling Carlsberg ice-creams.

"With these, we can take over Europe!" Den shouted.

'Pru' was unsure about that. His most awesome escape had been, well... less awesome than he'd envisaged. He'd gotten about twenty miles from the Finnish border and then for some reason the most un-awesome Red Army had turned back. Obviously they were overwhelmed and outgunned by him, the great Awesome One. How could they, a mere four battalions of such an un-awesome military force contend with him, the Great Prussia?

"So they let you go?" Den asked him.

"Nah, man. I fought my way outta there. I kicked fat commie bastard's arse until he was crying and then I shot down one whole regiment, then I high-tailed it on a motorbike. I picked up a girl and ... well, you know... and then I stole this most awesome van." Prussia decided this was the official version of events and the one that would go in his most awesome journal.

"Yeah, right!" Den laughed happily and ate his '99' – with a liberal dose of Carlsberg. "So why are we going through Sweden, dude? Why don't we just carry on through the Baltics, re-take Kaliningrad and East Germany, dude? I mean, dude, if you're on such a roll...?"

Prussia almost choked on his Carlsberg ice-cream, "Dude! I don't wanna show up my little brother... I mean come on, dude. All in good time. We'll go across to your awesome country, man and I'm back in Germany by tomorrow morning... man, my little brother is going to be soooo happy to see me."

"You mean West Germany?"

"Fuck off."

* * *

><p>20:00-21:00<p>

Francis Bonnefoy, the personification of the great Nation of le France, sashayed into his hotel bedroom, held the door open and was followed in by three men in tatty blazers and straw boaters (and although battered and bloodied they were still tap-dancing), a brass band with very battered instruments and three male strippers in varying states of undress, two of them with black eyes.

Francis closed the door behind them, picked up the telephone and ordered room service – copious champagne, oysters and red roses.

It was to be a long night.

* * *

><p>21:00-22:00<p>

"Copenhagen!" Denmark yelled as he and Prussia flung the ice-cream van through the Customs at the Malmo-Copenhagen ferry terminal.

"Woohoo! I'm free! West! I'm coming!" Prussia yelled.

"I think you should warn him..." Denmark told him.

* * *

><p>22:00-23:00<p>

"NEIN!" Germany flung the telephone receiver away from him. His older bruder, the bane of his existence, was on his way home. He was ashamed that he was actually dreading his arrival. The man could start a war in an empty room. He'd almost been relieved that Gilbert was under Russia's control for a while – at least then he didn't have to worry about what was going on under his roof. Let the big Russian deal with him. The 'spoils of war' ha! He won't be in such a hurry to win the next war then will he? Germany had thought and now...

"Ve, Luddy? What's the matter?" little Feliciano asked, his huge brown eyes were actually, for once, open in fright.

"You'd better get out of my bed, Italy," Germany sighed, "My big bruder is coming home..."

That was it, the end of his privacy, he could say goodbye to his nice, neat, orderly home and hello to strange women coming and going at all hours, indeterminable and indescribable stains on his nice rug and the morally ambiguous presence of the 'Bad Touch Trio'. Germany shuddered.

* * *

><p>23:00-24:00<p>

"I love my little Latvia," Russia said in his little sing-song voice and hugged Latvia close in a huge bear hug. Russia was by now quite calm and happy. He'd had several glasses of vodka and three of Lithuania's home-baked cookies.

The reason for the favouritism was simply that Latvia had had the brainwave to merely paint out the 'P's so that the whole hallway read 'Russia Roolz'.

The three Baltics and Russia were now sat in the living room, drinking vodka and just... sitting.

"Listen." Estonia said.

"I can't hear anything," Lithuania said. He'd just returned from dropping Belarus off at the local lunatic asylum where she had a permanent team on stand-by.

"Exactly," Estonia said and sat back happily.

Russia grinned, "I love my little Baltics," he said and then just as suddenly leapt to his feet, went into the hallway and picked up the telephone.

The Baltics all looked at one another in puzzlement.

"Da, a wall? You can? Right across Berlin... that should do it... we don't want him back. It might just stop him, da."

It was well past midnight before the occupants of the house stumbled up to bed.

"Night night, little Baltics," Russia called, happily, and snuggled down in his bed, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow, his right hand still clutching his pipe.

Latvia was still humming the tune to 'Big fat commie bastard' as she undressed. She had to admit to herself but she was going to miss Gilbert.

Estonia took off his glasses, settled back in bed and thought how much Gilbert owed him for phoning the Red Army top brass and calling off the hunt. And the 'Awesome One' would never know.

Lithuania pulled off his clothes wearily and got into bed, shuffled around a bit, pulled out a pair of lacy knickers that were under his pillow and blushed. What a day. He laid back and tried to sleep. Something was niggling him at the back of his mind (and it was nothing to do with discarded underwear), he was sure he'd forgotten something. Something important. No matter, he would deal with it in the morning.

Down in the kitchen, Major Knockemoff and his daughter were finally escaping through the kitchen door.

The girl left a note (unseen by her father) on the kitchen table which read, quite simply with no addressee and no signature, "I LOVE YOU, ONE DAY WE'LL BE TOGETHER".

Another day in the life of the Baltics...

**Author's Note:**

**Construction of the Berlin Wall started in August 1961. I'm not sure if it was built to keep Prussia out of Eastern Europe... but who knows. I quite like the idea.**


	12. Broken Part I

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire hors is awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**This is for Tamarutaca, who suggested I write a story where Russia is ill and hallucinates and... well read and find out.**

**Warnings: Fluffy angst**

Setting: Leningrad, December, 1970s

Chapter 12 – Broken Part I

The Baltics were sat in Russia's beaten up black Volga on the road to Helsinki, all three Nations in a veritable holiday mood. If it hadn't been for the freezing temperatures and the flurries of snow starting to come down, Latvia would have wound down the window and yelled with joy.

Only Lithuania kept looking back, his expression pensive.

"Don't either of you wonder why he told us to go and visit Berwald and Tino?" he asked his fellow Baltics.

"Who cares?" Estonia asked and put his foot on the accelerator.

It was late afternoon and Russia had told them to 'visit Tino for a few days but come back soon or I will come and get you, da?'

"I dunno, maybe he's got a load of girls coming around?" Latvia said. She had no idea why they were allowed out and she didn't care. "... or a nutters' convention? Or perhaps he's kidnapping Mr America and torturing him in the basement?" Latvia was giggling as she thought up more and more crazy activities that Russia could be doing in the privacy of his own home, "Or maybe he's indulging his passion for ballet and prancing around in a pink tutu?"

"Well, we have a day of freedom and if we're not back by sun-down tomorrow we'll catch it," Toris stated.

"He hasn't done this for ages, has he?" Latvia asked and started munching on a bag of crisps. Sat in the back of the car, she felt very much like a little kid – definitely the youngest Baltic.

Lithuania shook his head. But it was always the same date – 21st December – Winter Solstice. Lithuania looked around at the towering banks of pink-white snow clouds behind them and shivered. But he knew they couldn't go back, not yet.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

Russia was not playing host to a bunch of girls, nor was he tying up America in the basement and torturing him, or hosting a convention of 'nutters', there was also no sign of any pink tutus. He had been sat in his study for the past three hours waiting, his sole company Boris, the great Siberian cat, sat on his knee. His army greatcoat wrapped around him, the heating on full blast, his Imperial Guard sword and his pipe at hand and the doors locked. He was waiting for his visitor, who he knew – no matter how he knew – he just knew was on 'his' way. He'd considered fortifying the house windows and doors with sandbags but knew, ultimately, that this was futile.

He ran a finger along the edge of his sword, feeling the old blade and waited. Russia was a very patient man, he could wait all night. He wasn't going anywhere and his 'visitor' would arrive soon enough.

He knew he would have to fight, he had no choice but this was one foe he knew he couldn't beat. He just hoped he didn't disgrace himself. At least his Baltics and his sisters were well out of harm's way.

Then, there it was – the first opening line of attack. The house shook from the sudden sharp gust of wind and the windows rattled. The boiler in the kitchen sputtered and went out. Snowflakes, beautiful in their delicacy began to smatter against the glass but they didn't melt and soon the whole window seemed plastered by the crystal shapes. It looked rather as if someone had thrown icing sugar at the study window.

The temperature fell several degrees and Russia pulled his scarf more securely around his neck. Boris, the cat, yowled and ran for the door. Russia sighed, the cat was probably already under little Latvia's bed and he had an urge to follow him. But his hand gripped his sword and he waited still.

The wind howled and a ghostly spectral voice whispered, "Vanya..."

To Russia it sounded like the voice was taunting him and he shuddered from a mixture of fear and cold.

The voice sounded like splintering ice, a harsh rasping noise and although it used his patronym, he knew it wasn't friendly. The voice's owner had been an ally many a time and Russia had even summoned it in war, but he paid his debts dearly for the protection of his beloved Motherland.

The huge front door slammed open by an unseen force and snow blew in and down the long hallway like the sprinkling of cherry blossom heralding a new bride.

The snowflakes swirled into the study and cold tendrils of air hit Russia's face, he winced as if from Belarus' fingers. But these 'fingers' left ice crystals on his pale cheeks and Ivan could feel the moisture in his eyes and nose freezing. His breath crystallised and his long eyelashes turned white.

"General Winter," Russia whispered and stood up, brushing the snow from his shoulders where it had settled as if to embrace him.

Russia was thankful for his thick military issue winter gloves, for without them the cold metal pipe would have frozen to his hand.

The snow swirled and coalesced into a white column and as Russia watched with a mixture of disgust, fear and respect, a figure of a man formed. Almost as tall and broad as Russia, the man's features and clothing became more and more apparent as if he'd just stepped out of the snow. He had iron-grey hair and wore a very old battered Army greatcoat. Snow crystals shimmered around him and his every movement meant a blast of frigid air pervaded the room. He may have looked at first glance, if one ignored the snowflakes dancing around him, like a harmless old veteran of many wars until one looked into the eyes. They were the colour of dirty ice, small chinks of merciless cold. The man's mouth was set in a grim, hard smile beneath a slate-grey moustache.

"It's time to pay your debt, Vanya," Winter said.

Russia stepped forward with his pipe in one gloved hand, his sword in the other. He had to fight, to try and defend himself, if he didn't it was worse. So much worse. And then the day he had sent the Baltics away for would not be enough to heal from his wounds, to cover his scars to pretend everything was alright. He didn't want any more scars, any more pitying looks and having to wear so many layers of clothing; he looked like a walking wardrobe.

"You know why I have to do this?" Winter asked as Russia lunged at the older man with his pipe.

This attack would have been enough to disable even the strongest of Nations, and certainly any human. Winter waved a hand nonchalantly and the force of a hurricane wind flung Russia off his feet and dashed him against the wall. Something crunched and Russia winced, but he stood upright and turned back to face his foe.

"...To keep you strong," Winter continued.

Russia didn't answer this. 'Change the record,' he thought, 'I've heard it many times before'.

"1707, 1812, 1941..." General Winter stepped forward so he was toe to toe with Russia. "I killed your enemies..." he rasped.

"I killed them... my armies killed them," Russia whispered, his purple aura glimmered but the cold hit his lungs liked a cruel knife. He attempted a swipe at Winter with his sword.

Winter smiled and a gust of cold air caught at Russia causing him to gasp, the sword hit the General but it was as if he were hitting something as substantial as a blizzard. The General reached out and touched the blade as it passed through him. "You still have this, Vanya?" he asked wonderingly. The metal cracked and buckled from the intense cold and then the old blade snapped in two.

The General took out a sword of his own – long, cold steel which sliced through Russia's coat and caught his arm before he could pull away.

Warm blood trickled down his arm and froze.

Russia gazed down in slow, foggy realisation and then, with a sudden surge of anger, punched the General in the face as hard as he could. His fist connected with something very cold and hard – like a huge block of ice and then he felt himself lifted as if from a huge height and was slammed on the snow-covered carpet. He felt, with a groan, his ribs crack.

"I think that's enough for this year. You've paid your debt for this winter. I may go and visit young Canada... or China..." Winter told him, looking down with merciless eyes.

Russia struggled to stand and swayed. He touched the back of his head and his hand came away dark with blood.

"Nyet, you can't... don't hurt Canada, or Yao."

Winter started to look less distinct as if his edges were blurring, the snow around him swirling thickly.

Russia looked down at the pipe in his hand. If he could beat Winter just once then surely there would be no more winter, only spring?

With all the strength he could muster he brought the pipe down on the man's head. Winter almost nonchalantly, as if dealing with a naughty child, tutted and caught the pipe in one hand and with dreadful strength wrenched it from Russia's grasp.

"Vanya, Vanya," he whispered, almost sadly as he took the Arctic Nation into an embrace and held him. The snowflakes whirled around them. "Sleep now... deep..." Winter placed ice-cold lips to Russia's cheek.

Russia fell, crashing to the ground like a falling star, darkness overtaking him.

General Winter bent down over the large Nation and with the softest of touches, brushed the beige-blond hair from his closed, frozen eyelids.

"I'm sorry, my son."

* * *

><p>Helsinki, Finland<p>

"Then she said 'that doesn't go there', kesese, awesome!" The speaker of course was Prussia.

Latvia decided she would not have come to this party if she'd known Prussia was going to be there.

She couldn't relax and get drunk around him, just in case he found out she was a girl. Finland and Sweden she trusted – although they didn't know her secret. She'd thought that only Sweden and Finland were going to be there. But it had turned into a Nordic party, minus Iceland but including Prussia and Poland.

Sealand, her accomplice in crime, had been sent to bed early for trying to give Hanatamago a perm.

"Hahaha, that is soooo cool, bro," Denmark yelled, unnecessarily, as Prussia was sat right beside him.

"Fool," Norway muttered, and took a swig of his beer.

Latvia sighed heavily. Estonia was already well on his way to being drunk, he really had no head for alcohol. Lithuania and Poland had disappeared upstairs, whilst Sweden and Finland, the former Nation being the only person who could shut Denmark up, were kissing in the kitchen.

Latvia wished, in a weird kind of way, that she'd stayed at home.

"Hey, girly!" Prussia yelled at her.

Latvia ignored him. He insisted on calling her that, knowing it got a rise out of her.

"Hey! Dude Latvia with the big balls... get me a beer."

"Sod off, Gil," she yelled back and decided to get herself off up to bed. Sometimes these Nordic parties got way out of hand, and before you knew it, Denmark would be waving his boxer shorts in the air and telling them he was the King of Northern Europe and, even worse, Prussia would join him. It was not a sight anyone should ever see.

There were loud sighs and the odd excited squeal coming from the spare bedroom that Poland and Toris had taken themselves off to. Latvia headed into Peter's room and got herself into his bottom bunk – fully clothed.

"Hey Raivis!" Sealand whispered.

"Wut? I mean, what?"

Sealand hung upside down from the top bunk of the bunk-beds, his blond hair flopping down, "Anyone drunk down there?"

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Nah, I've been reading under the duvet with my torch," and Sealand waved a 'How to Build a Home-made Bomb' pamphlet at her.

Latvia shook her head, "Gil and Den are drunk, so's Esty, Norway's just... Norway. Your mum and dad are in the kitchen and I'm not sure about Pol and Toris."

"Bet they're bonking," Sealand said in a very English voice.

Latvia winced. It was disconcerting that the schoolboy was so _knowing _about such matters.

Latvia decided not to answer. She snuggled down to sleep but had to listen to Sealand's plans for world domination, punctuated by Prussia's 'keseses', Den's foghorn laugh and the sounds of 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' coming from down the hallway.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

Russia felt as if he were in a deep, dark pit. His brain, normally not the fastest working, felt as if it were moving through treacle. His limbs felt heavy and the cold was excruciating. Every breath felt like a dozen knives slicing through his lungs. He tried to get to his feet.

'Must keep awake' he thought groggily. He could feel sleep beckoning him back into its restful arms and he bit his tongue to keep awake, the coppery taste of his own blood filling his mouth. 'Get up', he thought and tried to rise to his feet.

He managed to get on his hands and knees and crawled, slowly, each movement causing agony, his hands and knees crunching on the cold snow. If he could get to the kitchen he could perhaps switch the boiler back on and warm up... his brain tried to process this but the cold gnawed at him, making each thought seem heavy and languid. Why not just sleep?

Just crawling slowly was an effort. He got to the foot of the stairs and felt his knees give way as he tried to push himself up.

'Just a bit further... not far now... I don't want the Baltics to find me like this... on my knees like a dog...' and then he felt his vision fogging, the tears in his eyes long since turned to icicles and he fell to the floor. He hugged his knees and pulled his scarf around his neck... sleep, that should do it... just for a while...

Snowflakes danced around him, glittering like little fairies.

**Author's Notes:**

**1707 – Great Northern War, Charles XII of Sweden invaded the Russia of Peter the Great and the winter crippled the Swedish army.**

**1812 – Napoleon's army was decimated by a particularly bad winter as they retreated**

**1941 – Hitler's Operation Barbarossa – the invasion of the Soviet Union - which began in June of that year came to a dead halt as the Russian winter set in.**

**Part II follows soon with a bucketload of fluff.**


	13. Broken Part II

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire hors is awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Again - based an on an idea from Tamarutaca who suggested Russia gets ill and hallucinates about Aija/Latvia (if you don't know who Aija is... read Baltic Secrets or Winters Night)**

**Warnings: Fluffy angst – anyone with an allergy to fluff may come out in a rash**

**Words in italics are Russia's thoughts**

**Setting: Leningrad, December, 1970s**

Chapter 13 –Broken Part II (or how to defrost a Russian)

Helsinki, Finland

Latvia slept fitfully. She wondered later if it was really the random yelling from downstairs or the absence of Russia's snoring. Hailstones clattered against the windowpane. Sealand had long since fallen asleep, a torch in one hand a 'How to be a successful Nation' booklet – written by Prussia – in the other. The house was now quiet, but for quiet creaking and the odd snore. Then, in a dream or reality, Latvia wasn't sure which, a soft female voice whispered to her, "Go home, Latvia, he needs you."

She almost jumped out of her skin as she swore she felt a soft hand on her cheek.

"Wut?" she almost fell off the bunk.

She had a horrid feeling deep down in the pit of her stomach. As if something very awful was going to happen. Nations felt natural disasters in their country and sometimes in adjacent lands. Deathtolls from wars could make even a strong Nation reel and flounder. But this was different - it was a sense of dread.

Russia slept the sleep of the frozen, his heart-rate slowed and his breathing fell to small rasping breaths, his chest barely rising and falling. Dreaming of sun and a field of sunflowers, Russia saw a woman dressed in a long peasant dress, sparkling blue eyes, flowers in her long blond braids, she smiled at him – her cheeks dimpled and rosy. She reminded Russia's foggy brain of Katya – gentle and motherly.

"It's okay, Vanya, they're coming. She's coming back..." she whispered and then started to fade away.

Russia reached out an arm to catch her - in his dream or awake, there seemed no distinction - but she was gone and he sunk back into a deep sleep.

Latvia got out of bed. It was still the middle of the night, but she couldn't sleep and the horrid feeling like a dreadful weight in the pit of her stomach was still there. She shuffled along the landing and knocked softly on Poland and Lithuania's door. Hearing no response she knocked a little louder.

Suddenly the door opened and Pol was stood there, incongruously wearing a short pink nighty, his hair in curlers, "Wassup, Latty?" he grumbled, "What's all the noise?"

"We need to go back," Latvia said quietly, but not whispering.

Poland shook his blond head, "No way, like, we only got here last night," Pol checked his diamante watch, "It's the middle of the night, go back to bed."

"There's something wrong!" Latvia tried to tell him.

Pol scrunched up his face, the white cold cream he was wearing wrinkled around his brow, "Yes, you! Go back to bed," and with that the Pole shut the door.

Latvia went downstairs and pulled on her coat, almost falling over the prone figures of Denmark and Prussia entwined in each others' arms (clothed, thankfully) surrounded by empty beer bottles.

She went up to Estonia's prone body.

"Ed! Ed!" she whispered and shook him.

He grumbled and turned over and started snoring gently, hugging his briefcase.

"Ed!" she almost yelled.

There was a loud snort from across the room and she felt an empty Carlsberg bottle whizz past her left ear.

"Hey!" she exclaimed turning around to see the bright red eyes of Prussia glaring at her.

"Fuck off, Latvia dude, and stop waking everyone up!" Prussia growled at her.

"Fuck off, Gil you big totally un-awesome loser," Latvia retaliated. "You can't tell me what to do!"

Prussia made to get up and she hurried out, but not before she'd filched the car keys and some money out of Estonia's pocket.

'I'll drive back,' she thought 'Just to make sure. I don't have to go back in the house. Just check... oh God, oh God...' The awful sick feeling in the pit of her stomach seemed to grow with every minute. It reminded her of the time the Soviets had first invaded in 1940 and then the Germans in 1941. Although this was not as bad – those invasions and the mass killings had had her doubled up, this was just a feeling of dread, a horrid shiver running up and down her spine. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe because she was a Soviet republic and had been so for so many years her fate was tightly bound with _his_ and _he _was having an attack of wind...

The snow was really coming down now, but Latvia was used to driving in snowy conditions and the snowploughs had been out. However, she still struggled to see through the white-out. The windscreen wipers were going flat out and the old Volga was the only car on the road. She pushed the car as fast as she dared and sped down the road back to Leningrad. He would be angry, she thought, if she went home early, but perhaps if she just checked, hid in the garden. What on earth was she doing? She almost stopped and turned back, but something - a gut feeling - told her to keep going.

She stopped to fill up at a fuel station and used the small amount of rubles she had on her and then used the rest of the change on a bottle of vodka to lessen any anger Russia might feel at seeing her back early. She tried to think up an excuse if he spotted her. 'Prussia,' she decided, their stock answer. Prussia was there and he bothered her... yes, that would work and it was true anyway.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

As it happened, Latvia didn't need to use vodka or any excuse. Her gut feeling had been correct. She realised this as she pulled into the snow-covered driveway, some four hours after setting off from Helsinki. By now a weak wintery sun had come up revealing a snow-covered wonderland. At least a foot of snow had fell on Leningrad since they'd left – with drifts of around 3 foot deep. Russia's house looked like a winter palace from a fairy tale, glittering and sparkling in the sun.

Latvia got out shakily and approached the front door, grasping the vodka. She was shocked to find the door wide open and snow trailing inside the hallway as someone had, in their madness, ridden in on a snow-blower.

She then gasped and did the absolute unthinkable at the sight that greeted her – she dropped a full bottle of vodka on the floor.

Russia was laid in a foetal position at the foot of the stairs, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms clenched tightly around him. He was covered in ice crystals and snow.

She ran up to him and dropped to her knees.

"Sir! Sir!" she called and then, getting no response, reached out a tentative hand, touched him warily on the cheek. He was icy cold, his lips were blue and his eyes appeared to be frozen shut.

Her heart faltered. Despite her fear of him, she didn't hate him and had actually come to feel an affection and fondness for him. Yes, he could be intimidating, petty and scary even, but he could also be gentle, generous and, at times, unintentionally funny. She thought for one awful, heart-stopping moment that he was dead. Then she carefully put a hand on his wrist, wincing at the dried blood she found there, and felt a weak pulse. She then placed a hand at his lips and just felt the soft whisper of breath.

She stood up as panic started to bite at her and looked around frantically for something to put over him. She ran into the living room and pulled the throw off the sofa and returned pulling it around him. It barely covered his shoulders and then she ran into the kitchen and started pressing the switches on the boiler. Why was it off? What had happened? It was never switched off. Also, she couldn't understand why there was so much snow everywhere. The taps had frozen, icicles hanging from them and there was frost covering the worktops.

She gave up and ran back to Russia's prone body. It was weird seeing her boss quiet and asleep. He was usually so noisy. Kolkolling, smashing things up, drinking, eating, stomping around, but now seeing him unconscious, barely moving, she felt tears well up.

She ran to the telephone, picked it up and dialled.

"Yo bro!" An obnoxiously loud voice answered.

"Gil? Get Toris now." Latvia almost yelled.

"Well, dude Latvia, where the hell have you got to?" Gilbert asked.

"Shut up and get Toris."

"Fucking little Baltic ordering me about." She heard Gilbert yell ear-splittingly, "Torrrriiiiis!"

"Raivis? Where are you?" Toris sounded breathless as he answered.

"Home. Toris, listen, the boss... I don't know what happened..." her heart was beating ten to the dozen and her eyes never left Russia's prone form.

"What? Why did you leave? Why are you there? The boss..."

This time Latvia shouted down the phone, "Toris, listen... the boss is ill. He's covered in snow and he's not moving and I think..." here she choked up as she saw the frozen pool of blood around the Russian's head. "... I think he was beaten up... he's hardly breathing and he feels really cold... the boiler won't work..." All this came out in one breath and then she stopped and tried to gain some control.

"Calm down, Raivis. We're setting off now. You need to press the red button on the boiler until it reaches 25 and then release... and keep Mr Russia warm... wrap him in blankets and just... keep him warm, we'll be there soon."

Latvia hardly heard any of this, only the 'keep him warm', "But who... what?" She asked, who on earth could beat Russia up, she thought.

"Just calm down or you're no use at all. Keep him warm. We're coming," Toris said firmly.

"An ambulance! I'll phone for an ambulance!" Latvia said, triumphantly.

"Latviaaaaaaa! Noooooooo, the boss hates hospitals, you know that... we're coming, just hang on and keep him warm," Toris yelled at her and hung up.

Latvia put the receiver down and looked back at Russia. She ran up the stairs and grabbed as many duvets, blankets and pillows as she could carry and, tripping several times on the stairs, dragged them down.

She wrapped Russia up as best she could and then ran back to the kitchen. She pressed the 'red button' several times and panicked as nothing happened – Toris' words going straight out of her head. She then, shaking with cold, ran back to the foot of the stairs and sank down to the floor, wrapped a blanket around herself and snuggled under a heavy duvet with Russia.

Spooning with her boss, especially a big scary one like Russia, was definitely not in the Baltics' job description. She'd tried lying facing him with her arms wrapped around him. Body heat, she knew was the easiest way to warm up and keep warm in Arctic temperatures. She'd learnt this from experience. But he felt so big and solid and it was un-nerving having him so close, face to face, even when she shuffled and was facing his chest. She rubbed his broad back to try and warm him but it felt like rubbing a large snowman. She was shocked to find his blond hair matted with dried and frozen blood.

She turned around and snuggled back with her bottom on his lap. She'd read that you should keep the 'vitals' or the 'extremities' warm. She blushed furiously and was glad that he was unconscious and oblivious. His hands were encased in thick gloves but were curled up like claws to conserve heat. She wrapped his arms around her and pulled the various duvets and blankets around them both. She tried to relax, Toris and Eduard would be here soon, well, perhaps in around four hours, she and Russia were both fully clothed, he was unconscious, what could possibly happen?

_Russia cuddled up to the young blond sniper, her body warmth starting to cut through the freezing cold. Where had she been? He'd waited years and years for her. Had the Germans done this? Why did he ache so much? Russia tried to ignore the pain in his chest, head and arm and concentrate on the warmth now starting to radiate through him. Aija, yes, that was her name. Better not let her go this time..._

* * *

><p>To while away the time, Latvia had hummed tunes to herself, firstly her beloved ABBA and then some old Latvian folk tunes and then some Tchaikovsky – Swan Lake, Romeo and Juliet and the Nutcracker Suite. (But not, definitely not, the 1812 Overture.)<p>

Latvia wasn't sure how long she'd been laid there when she felt Russia start to shiver. But it made her almost jump out of her skin. She felt toastie warm, he didn't however.

Russia was usually very warm – he often felt like a veritable huge hot water bottle when he hugged them all, unless he was in a bad mood and then the temperatures would drop, he would kolkol and his touch would be glacial. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'he overdid a bad mood, and kolkolled himself an injury?'

So there she was, in Russia's arms, his chest pressed against her back, her bottom pressed against his... (she preferred not to think about the part of his anatomy she was pressed against), his breath whistling in her ear. If he hadn't been unconscious she would have dissolved into a puddle of embarrassment. If he hadn't been unconscious she wouldn't be there, she corrected, hurriedly.

Hesitantly, she turned her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder, afraid for a minute that he had woken up but his eyes were still shut and his teeth were chattering with cold. His cheeks were less ivory-white than they were, but there was still a blue-ish tinge to his lips.

Latvia pulled his arms more securely around her and had a sudden flashback to the winter of 1944 - a cold December night in the forest of Riga and a certain Russian officer. She smiled to herself, why on earth was she thinking of that? Probably because she'd not slept with a guy since... oh... young Petrov in the Forest Brothers back in 1950... oh God, well over twenty years ago. 'I really, really have to get out more, if I'm thinking this is nice, being in Mr Russia's arms, keeping him warm.'

She looked again over her shoulder just to check, his eyes were still closed, while asleep he looked younger and actually quite handsome. There was a soft tentative smile on his lips, but he was still shivering violently, making her own body shake.

_So much cold, so cold, but she's keeping me warm. But that's my job - to keep her warm... Where did those Germans go? The voice said she'd come back and she did. She smells of apples and sunshine and the sea. I want to hold her forever and never let her go. I must stop shivering. I don't want her to think I'm weak. I have to be strong, if the Germans come back... no it was... Winter... If he comes back then he'll hurt her and I can't let him hurt her._

Russia leaned forward a bit, trying to stifle his shivering, he felt so stupid, so weak, but he wanted to hold her closer and succeeded in tightening his hold around her waist and then wrapped his coat around them both.

Latvia froze as Russia wrapped his coat around them and was about to jump up, but then she relaxed a bit as he breathed softly and surely. At least he was okay and starting to warm up. She looked back over her shoulders and was relieved to find he was still unconscious. She almost fainted with relief at this. She snuggled back against him and felt strangely warm and safe.

* * *

><p>It didn't seem four hours before Toris and Eduard burst in. Latvia had fallen into a snooze and Russia had finally stopped shivering but was still unconscious and holding her tightly around her waist.<p>

The two Baltics gave a gasp when they saw the snow-covered carpet.

"Where...?" Estonia started and was about to ask where the snow had come from, but Lithuania shook his head meaningfully, 'don't ask,' his expression said.

The Estonian went straight into the kitchen and did in two seconds what Latvia had failed to do – switch on the boiler.

Toris approached the mound of blankets and duvets at the foot of the stairs. He'd lived and worked for Russia on and off for nearly two centuries and nothing really surprised him anymore. He had a pretty good idea who was behind this attack but he decided it would be best to say nothing. He just hoped Russia would not be aware that they'd seen him at his weakest. If he knew... Toris shuddered at the thought. Appearing strong and intimidating was everything to Russia and Lithuania knew the harsh penalties if Russia knew Toris had seen him in this condition or if he exhibited any pity for the large Nation.

Carefully, he peeled back some of the layers of blankets to reveal Latvia snuggled back against Russia's chest, curled up with her knees drawn up almost to her chin, whilst Russia had both his arms wrapped around the smaller Nation, his face in her hair.

Latvia opened her eyes and blinked stupidly.

Lithuania motioned to Estonia to join him, but to be quiet. How on earth were they going to extricate Latvia from this?

"Maybe we should tell him Belarus is outside? That will get him moving," Estonia whispered.

"He's got hypothermia, Ed, we can't give him a shock like that," Toris answered.

Latvia wriggled and attempted to move one of Russia's arms. It was very heavy and the action just made him grip her tighter. He sniffed and cuddled her tighter to his chest and then, to her horror, put a leg over her, trapping her under him.

She widened her eyes in shock and looked beseechingly at Toris. She was truly scared now.

Russia's chest was rising and falling, his shivering had abated quite a bit but his breathing rattled and with each movement he winced in his unconscious state.

Toris bent down and tried to gently pull Russia away from the smaller Baltic.

_They're not taking her. She's mine, she belongs to me and when I'm well again she and I will become one again._

Russia growled like a large wolf and muttered something. Lithuania frowned but hurriedly backed off and looked at Eduard.

Eduard stood with his hand on his chin, a worried frown on his face, thinking furiously.

Raivis hardly dared to breathe - in fact, she felt as if she couldn't breathe - Russia was holding her so tightly.

The house was started to warm now. The kitchen taps thawed and water started to drip. The snow in the hallway quickly thawed, leaving dampness on the blood-red carpet.

Estonia snapped his fingers and whispered to Lithuania, "Get that stew warmed up..."

"This is no time for eating, Ed," Lithuania replied with a sigh.

"No, he'll wake up when he smells food, and perhaps we can get Latvia out."

"Do we want him awake? If he realises we've seen him like this there'll be hell to pay. And suppose he realises she's a she?" Lithuania whispered back and indicated Latvia, who was staring wide-eyed and was now trembling with fear.

She felt as if she were being crushed by Russia's huge weight, one leg trapping her under him, strong arms wrapped around her pulling her to his chest, she gulped and shivered and hoped to God he wouldn't come round, but then again if he didn't how were they going to get him off her?

Estonia ruminated on this. "Right, we need to get him moving, we can't just stand around here. The longer we leave him, the worse it will be. If we could lift him and get him to bed..."

This was easier said than done. The two men tried to pull Russia off the little Baltic first but he was a dead weight and kept growling and tightening his hold on Latvia so much she honestly felt as if her ribs would break.

Lithuania and Estonia stepped back and scratched their respective heads. "You're the genius, Ed, what do we do now?" Toris asked Eduard.

Being under Russia's 200 pound weight felt like being under a snowdrift. Latvia shuffled around and finished up at least on her back so she was facing him and not face down on the floor. She was still pinned down though on the cold, damp carpet. Russia had both his arms wrapped around her waist and his legs wrapped around hers so it felt as if his whole body was engulfing hers. His cheek was resting on carpet just above her head and her head was pressed against his chest. Then she had an idea. She reached up and gently rubbed his blond head and stroked his cheek. "Let go, Vanya," she whispered, "It's okay." (She'd seen Katya pat Russia on the head several times to calm the big Nation down.)

It would either work or there would be a disaster and Russia would come round and realise that the small figure tucked under him was a female one.

_I should let go now, I'm hurting her. But I'm holding her too tight and she's only small..._

Russia snuffled and actually rolled away, releasing his grasp and Latvia, with a huge sigh of relief pulled away.

Estonia and Lithuania took this opportunity and one grasped his shoulders, the other his legs and with all the strength they could muster they hauled him into the living room and onto the couch.

It was as far as they could move him, but it was enough. Lithuania covered him with a blanket and then started to examine the wounds on his head and arm.

Latvia, her legs like jelly, went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Truth be told, she had been terrified and it was only now, after the event, she realised the danger she'd been in. Suppose he'd woken up? She stood shaking as she made coffee, and nodded at Estonia when he asked her if she was 'alright'.

The wounds weren't as bad as they'd first appeared. Lithuania, working as if he were tending a large grizzly bear that could waken any minute, worked fast and efficiently, cleaning and dressing the wounds and then gently patting Russia over.

"I think he's got broken ribs, but nothing else is broken," Toris whispered to Eduard as the latter Nation took the first aid kit from him.

"Well, we'll just leave him until he wakes then?"

"Yes, he might actually think he's got himself here and tended his own wounds..." Toris said, hopefully.

Ed raised an eyebrow, "We could tell him we found him and..." Eduard was thinking furiously. Surely it would mean they would be in the good books that they'd found him in time and saved his life?

Toris shook his head, "Honestly, he'll go mad if he knows we've seen him like this. He hates being seen as weak... and suppose he then remembers Latvia laid next to him? Let him think he sorted himself out, it's easier that way," Toris explained and then, seeing Eduard's disbelieving face, added, "Really, trust me, I know."

* * *

><p>Russia finally regained consciousness to the lovely smell of beef stroganoff and cookies. He sniffed tentatively and eased himself off the couch. How had he got there? He felt the back of his head where there was a dressing neatly placed and also the one on his wounded arm.<p>

He couldn't remember doing any of that, all he remembered was falling into a deep, cold sleep at the foot of the stairs. A vague memory of a girl – warm and soft holding him or him holding her nudged at him but then faded.

He walked slowly and shakily into the kitchen, his cracked ribs ached and he had to steel himself to walk upright, but he managed. If he put on his usual smile, his Baltics would be none the wiser, he thought.

"Hello, Sir! I made supper – your favourite stroganoff and a fresh batch of cookies with extra chocolate chips," Lithuania said and pulled out a chair for his boss.

Russia carefully eased himself into the chair and smiled around at his Baltics. He was so pleased to have them back but was glad that they hadn't been there when Winter had visited.

There was a minute's awkward silence. Latvia struggled to say something. She thought Russia looked very pale and he kept wincing in pain and she felt very sorry for him, but she remembered Lithuania's strict instructions to say nothing.

Finally, it was clever Estonia who broke the silence. "So, the match went okay, Sir? I mean 4-2 to Zenit that's got to be good, eh?"

Russia looked up, he hadn't seen the football, but obviously the Baltics thought he had sent them away so he could watch the match in peace with his vodka... He nodded hurriedly, "Da, it was a very good match, very good goals..." he smiled at Toris as his plate was piled high with food.

Estonia carried on, recounting what he'd read in the paper. Lithuania gave thanks for his quick thinking and cleverness. Latvia just sat silent, hardly eating but glancing at Russia occasionally with concern in her eyes.

Russia chomped down his food and then looked them over, "So you all had a nice time, da? All the Nordics were there and gave you lots of food and drink?"

The three Baltics all nodded. Lithuania gave a sigh of relief. At least Russia hadn't suspected.

It was then that Latvia, her curiosity peaked – the question that had been nagging at her ever since she'd arrived home – "Why was there so much snow in the house, Sir?" she asked, innocently.

Russia froze mid-mouthful and looked at the small Nation.

Eduard had paused mid gabble about football strategies, whilst Toris closed his eyes in desperation.

Russia put his fork down and said quietly, "There was a very bad..." he trailed off and, alarmingly, a purple haze formed around him. He didn't want them to know about General Winter, suppose Winter then attacked his Baltics – they would surely be killed? He didn't want them to know he'd been defeated, that he'd failed...

It was Lithuania who finished his sentence, "... A bad burst, that's what it was... the water pipe burst and the boiler went out, it must have frozen all over. I think Latvia means there was a lot of water around... don't you, Latvia?" he looked over at her meaningfully.

Latvia nodded hurriedly, 'but I want answers,' she thought.

Russia nodded "Da, I didn't notice, the match was very good and I'd drunk so much vodka..." Russia looked around at his Baltics. Maybe they would think he'd passed out, he thought. It had happened enough times.

Estonia continued talking about 'player of the match', Lithuania served up more Stroganoff, Latvia went quiet.

* * *

><p>Some years after those events, the Baltics would think of the next two weeks as being the most peaceful and quiet they'd ever spent in Russia's house.<p>

Russia was very placid and easy-going and kept humming Tchaikovsky as he shuffled around the house. At quiet moments when his Baltics weren't around, he went into a daydream, trying to remember who or what had kept him warm, dressed his wounds. All he remembered was a small feminine figure cuddled up to him... but there couldn't have been... and the voice... was he going mad? Perhaps he'd just dreamt it all, the cold can do such things, he must have hallucinated, got himself the first aid kit, patched himself up, wrapped the blankets around himself and fell asleep on the couch. Russia was less sure about this, but in his head there was no other explanation.

Except for the bright blond hairs, so unlike his own that he found tangled in his scarf... Perhaps he had his own little guardian angel in the form of Aija, he liked that idea as he snuggled down into bed one night. He wrapped his scarf around his neck – it smelt a little of her – and went to sleep, ignoring the pain in his chest.

* * *

><p>Apart from being in obvious discomfort from three broken ribs, having a sore head, a sore arm and a runny nose he didn't seem to have suffered any ill effects. He told his Baltics that he must have 'caught a chill' after falling asleep on the couch whilst watching the football. He didn't mention the dressing on his head or his arm and the stabbing pain whenever he breathed in and out, and they never questioned it.<p>

Latvia never found out the truth about what or who had attacked Russia, although she asked Lithuania, who she was sure knew, but all he said was that 'it was better she didn't know'. Estonia told her frankly that 'he had no idea and sometimes it was best to be ignorant'.

* * *

><p>When Christmas Day arrived - 7th January - Russia had insisted on his sisters staying away. When Katya had rung repeatedly for an explanation, Toris had told her that Russia was recovering from flu and that it would be better if Belarus didn't visit and if she couldn't visit, then neither could Katya. She seemed to accept this and sent them a huge parcel of cakes. Belarus protested, many times, over the telephone but no-one took any notice. So, for the first time in years it was a peaceful Christmas in the Russian household and Russia could dispense with hiding under the study desk or in the greenhouse away from his little sister.<p>

Although Russia had always given his Baltics gifts for Christmas, this year he seemed to have been particularly generous. (They had bought him a new pair of gloves and a bottle of vodka.)

He had bought Toris a new set of expensive kitchen knives (Toris wasn't sure if these were a good present, worrying over Belarus' possible reaction), Eduard an expensive set of pens and a brand new calculator.

But Latvia's present was the most surprising. She took the elaborately wrapped parcel from Russia with trepidation. She just hoped it wasn't another 'Boys Own' Annual, some horrid martial arts weapon or even worse, some horrid pornography that France had given Russia that the big Nation was trying to offload to try and 'man up' the little Baltic.

It was none of these things. She opened the parcel carefully and took out a small intricately jewelled oblong box. On the outside were delicate pictures of Leningrad in the snow.

Toris was about to say something, his eyes wide with astonishment, but Russia shushed him.

Latvia looked up questioningly at Russia.

"Open it," Russia urged her, smiling.

Carefully, she lifted the tiny gold catch and opened the lid. Inside the figure of a tiny ballerina in a pink tutu twirled around to the tune of the Nutcracker Suite. The backdrop was the old Winter Palace with tiny silver snowflakes glittering around the inside of the box.

Latvia gasped, "Oooh, it's beautiful!"

"You've all worked so hard this year, this is my chance to say thank you," he told them, smiling.

Estonia moved up to stand beside Toris and whispered, "That must cost a packet?"

Toris whispered back, "It was Anastasia's."

Estonia raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Latvia looked at the slowly twirling ballerina, totally entranced. She then closed the lid as the music stopped, placed it very carefully on a nearby table and then did something previously unthinkable.

She stepped up to Russia, placed her arms around his waist and gave him a tight hug, "Thank you, Sir. Happy Christmas."

Russia was momentarily confused and then hugged her back happily. It had been the first time in decades, he thought, that someone other than his sisters had willingly hugged him. "Happy Christmas, little Latvia."

**Author's Note:**

**I read quite a bit about hypothermia on medical dictionaries etc. I reckon any 'normal' person would have been seriously ill/dead/have frostbite but in my headcanon all the Nations have a different metabolism to us, as such they heal quicker. It is true though that you should warm the body slowly – preferably with blankets etc and a hot water bottle, but as Latvia couldn't get a hot water bottle she used body heat.**

**Anastasia – Grand Duchess Anastasia, the youngest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia (the last Tsar of Russia), murdered in 1918 with the rest of her family by the secret police.**

**Zenit – Leningrad Football team**

**Anyone who can guess the identity of the lady who whispers to Latvia and Russia gets a virtual chocolate-chip cookie baked by Lithuania (but hopefully not laced with Lithium).**

**Phew, honestly, this whole chapter took some writing – all that angst and fluff. I had trouble finishing it – in fact it got to the stage where I thought it would never finish. Next 'episode' will definitely be cracky. Ideas/plot bunnies welcome.**


	14. Resistance

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**DefinitionOfMyself, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat (my beta reader who often just shakes her head in disbelief and if she doesn't laugh at it, it doesn't get put on here). And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Firstly, I just wanted to say a huge thank to the brilliant response I got from the last chapter, I love you all.**

**If this story was in any particular order (i.e. if I was a normal, sane author) then this would be chapter 2. This is more of Latvia's back story, parts of which I wrote before I wrote Baltics Secrets. The rules of living in Russia's house, i.e. Latvia's first week, but have added some vital ingredients like Prussia and Belarus...**

**Mid 1950s**

**Warnings: swearing, Prussia, Belarus**

**Chapter 14 - Resistance**

Latvia had only been in Russia's house for a week but already it felt like years. The rules for a start confused her and nobody seemed willing to explain them to her:

Don't speak German (not that she had any wish to – she'd learnt rudimentary German during the War). That was another thing – don't mention the War, Stalin or Hitler – these all seemed obvious to her. But she was unsure as to why she should not mention one of Russia's own bosses.

So Russia was touchy about the War – she could understand that. Don't let his sister in, why? Had they fallen out?

The other occupants of the house puzzled her. Lithuania, who she gauged, ran the household, did all the cooking and was Russia's favourite (Prussia told her this with a horrid leer).

Toris had her doing the laundry – which involved using an old spin tub. This meant filling it with hot water and turning the handle to wash the clothes manually and then putting the wet clothes and sheets through the mangle to squeeze out excess water. It was hard work but she was fairly fit after living hand to mouth in the forest. Washing clothes had become a secondary concern to her.

She had spent the last ten years or so after the War had ended as a member of the Forest Brothers resistance movement which often numbered in their thousands. Latvia had spent her time on the run, hiding out in the countryside, taking shots at the occupying Red Army and spreading dissent, sometimes if she was lucky she got to spend the night in a safe house. But it was rare to spend more than two nights in the same place.

So having her own bed night after night with breakfast in a warm house was a little like a holiday. The only downsides was having to pretend to be a boy in front of Russia and Prussia and sharing the house with, what she soon realised, were four nutters.

Actually, she liked Toris. She'd decided he was quite dreamy in fact. If it wouldn't have become complicated (and she realised pretty quickly that it would) she could really have gone for him, but she got over this pretty fast when she was realised he was gay for someone called 'Pol' and also in love with someone who Prussia called 'crazy bitch'. She liked Estonia although she was un-nerved at how quiet he was and the fact that he'd spotted so quickly she was girl – most of her male fellow Forest Brothers had never guessed in ten years.

Prussia never seemed to shut up, on any subject. His own proclamations of 'awesomeness' were hilarious, but his gift of mimicry – particularly of Russia – had her giggling. He was also adept at giving them all frequent news bulletins of his bodily functions.

"Phew man, I'm sweating like a whore in a church!"

"Dude, did you hear that belch? Phew! You could power the eastern seaboard of this shitty un-awesome country with that!"

Russia, who was called intermittently 'the Boss' by Estonia and Lithuania and 'mad, fat commie bastard' by Prussia, she'd seen very little of. But when he did come in to mealtimes there was silence. Even Prussia, whose mouth often completely bypassed his brain, was quiet, although the small Germanic ex-Nation often pulled moronic faces behind the Arctic Nation's back implying said Russian was nutty as a squirrel.

The first meal Latvia ate with Russia she'd been fascinated by how he'd eaten – head down, spoon/fork gripped in his large fist as he shovelled the food in, barely pausing for breath – like all soldiers everywhere. After all you never know when or where your next meal is coming.

* * *

><p>There were also other complicated rules. Only certain records were allowed on the rickety turntable. The radio was to be supervised at all times – any mention of the War and it was to be switched off immediately. Vodka was to be available at all times, with the emergency 'reserve' kept under the kitchen sink and under no circumstances was anyone to touch this.<p>

The telephone had rung a fair bit and Latvia noticed that it was usually Toris who answered.

Prussia rarely answered and then only if Toris or Eduard didn't get there first.

A simple reason for this was that if Gilbert answered, no matter who called, Gilbert's stock greeting was, "Yo bro, you've reached the household of the most totally un-awesome nation on this entire planet. I, on the other hand, am a captive, held against my awesome will and one day I will escape and stick this telephone up..." Gilbert never got to finish his missive as Toris or Eduard would snatch the receiver from him.

Latvia found that her boss was in and out a lot. Soviet politics seemed to be at a very tense stage. Stalin had recently died and there was a lot of upheaval. Toris told Latvia to never ever mention Stalin or the Soviet leader's death or ask why Russia was in Moscow at around that time.

She was also to never ask why he never took off his scarf and jacket. In fact Russia's scarves were carefully rotated in the laundry with at least one clean scarf in reserve.

Prussia told her, with a horrid gleam in his eyes, that without it his head would fall off. He also told her that Russia never took off his coat because 'underneath it there was loads of wolf fur' and the 'guy was really half werewolf'.

She found it weird, the house was very warm, the heating on nearly all the time, Toris and Eduard went around in shirt sleeves, Gilbert often in his vest top to 'show off his awesome muscles' (Latvia asked him where they were) but she never saw Russia without at least three layers of clothing, a jacket and a scarf.

Even more alarmingly, was the 'name' Prussia gave for Russia – 'Rapetruck Russia' with the most awful glint in his eyes.

So Latvia slept with her sniper rifle under her bed and a kitchen knife under her pillow. The first four nights she'd lain awake for many reasons. Firstly, she was unaccustomed to sleeping in a proper bed. Secondly, she was listening for the large Nation to come bursting into her room and raping her. Thirdly, she'd lain awake from the strange noise coming from the room below hers – it sounded a combination of a sawmill, a tractor engine starting up and a herd of wildebeest being slaughtered.

After the fifth night, tossing and turning, Latvia red-eyed and exhausted, staggered down into the kitchen where Toris was baking bread and asked the Lithuanian if there was a strange creature living in the house.

Prussia, sat at the kitchen table, in his hands were his usual household implements which he appeared to carry everywhere – a beer bottle and a plunger (a bizarre combination, Latvia often thought), laughed hysterically, "Kesese, that'd be big, fat commie bastard..."

"The boss snores, Raivis," Toris explained, handing her a black coffee.

"That wasn't snoring, that was..." Raivis had never heard snoring like that.

"Fat commie dude's totally un-awesome, girly chick."

"Stop calling _him_ a girly chick," Toris shouted. (Latvia thought that Toris made it worse by picking on Prussia every-time he said it and by emphasising the 'him'.)

"Yeah, but guy looks like a chick, kesese."

"I'm more of a man than you!" Latvia exclaimed.

"Ha! Raivis here has balls I'll give him that..."

Toris, ever patient, even when it came to Prussia, decided to ignore the exchange, spooned out a large bowl of porridge, "It's good that Mr Russia snores, Raivis," he said, wisely.

"What?" Raivis, having had less than an hour's sleep, did not agree.

"Yes, if he's snoring we know where he is and that he's asleep. And that means we're safe."

"He doesn't seem so bad..." Latvia said in all innocence. She'd only seen him at mealtimes and so far he hadn't burst into her room.

Lithuania almost spilled a full bowl of porridge whilst Gilbert almost burst a blood vessel, "Kesese! Little Latvia likes Rapetruck Russia!" he laughed.

"Don't call him that, Gilbert," Toris admonished.

"R...R...Rapetruck? Why do you call him that?" Latvia stuttered and shivered.

But no-one answered as Russia strode in, almost slamming the door off its hinges, grabbed a bowl of hot porridge and spooned it down still standing (Latvia decided he must have an asbestos mouth). The Russian then patted the three Nations on the head. Lithuania didn't even register, Latvia winced away, startled, whilst Prussia made to retch.

"We're not your fucking pets!" Prussia yelled at him.

Russia ignored him, steamed out, stopping at the doorway and turning to Prussia he said, "Prussia, come with me. I need you to do something..."

Prussia pulled a face, "What about Ed? Can't he do it?"

"He has a bad back," Russia said with a frown, indicating 'bad backs' were for lesser Nations.

"Well I'm having my breakfast. So laters, dude," Gilbert said, sipping his beer.

Russia leaned over the small ex-Nation and put a large hand on his shoulder, a purple aura shimmered around him, "Wut?" he said in a barely concealed snarl.

Latvia trembled, wide-eyed and edged closer to Lithuania.

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Keep your knickers on! I'm coming..."

As he left the room, Prussia leaned into the Latvia and whispered in her ear, "You're next... Kesese! Rapetruck Russia..." he chanted as he sauntered out after Russia's bulk.

"The... the... purple aura... wh ... wh... what was that?" she asked Toris. Honestly, she never used to stutter before coming to this house.

"That's a warning sign. That and when he says kolkolkol. It means do as he says, run or get out of the way."

Latvia shook.

* * *

><p>The doorbell rang.<p>

Lithuania, who was pulling a tray of freshly-baked cookies out of the oven, turned to Latvia and said, "Get that for me, will you Raivis?"

Latvia, still trembling, went out into the hallway and paused outside Russia's study. The boss spent much of his time in there – usually with Estonia. She had no idea what they did. It was usually very quiet. However, this time she heard raised voices and grunts and groans.

"There... there..." she heard Russia urging.

"Jeez, I'm trying..."

"Well, you need to go higher... you need to muscle up, Prussia. I thought you were awesome... just a bit more, da?"

"Fuck off, da?" Latvia heard Prussia say.

"Wut?"

"Right, you bend down then I'll..." Russia ordered.

"No fucking way... I ain't doing that... you're too heavy, man."

"Well, I'm doing all the work here, Gilbert."

"Don't call me by my human name."

She heard Russia growl, literally, growl. "I'm your boss, and you will do as I say. Now get a grip on that..."

Latvia, pale and shaking, from listening outside the door, visibly jumped as the front doorbell rang again.

It was Estonia who answered it, "Oh, Miss Katya. It's so nice to see you," he said.

Estonia turned to the pale-faced, shaking Latvian as a large-breasted, tall lady with a cheerful smiling face stepped into the hallway. "Tell the boss his sister's here," he told Raivis and then added, "Remember to say its Katya."

Latvia gave the lady a brief smile and turned to the study door, and then turned back to Estonia, "Do I have to?" she asked, still shaking. She really did not want to go in that room.

Eduard sighed, "Just knock and go in... he won't mind..." he smiled apologetically at Katya.

Latvia in turn, whispered to her fellow Baltic, hoping Russia's sister wouldn't hear her, "... but Gilbert's in there and..."

Estonia gave her look that was incredulous in the extreme, knocked on Russia's study door, opened it and shoved her in.

* * *

><p>She shut her eyes resolutely and said, her voice quavering, "Mr... Mr Russia... your sister's here..." and was about to run out.<p>

However, what happened next was peculiar in the extreme - if Latvia had seen it, that is. She only opened her eyes when she heard Prussia yell, "Fucking hell, I'm stuck here!" and was greeted by the sight of Gilbert clinging by his fingertips to the very top of the floor to ceiling bookshelves which lined the whole of one wall.

She was thankful that Gilbert's trousers, in fact that all Gilbert's clothes were in their proper place. Russia, however, was behind his desk. Actually, correction, her boss, the great Russia had managed to somehow cram his full six foot two inch frame _under _his desk and only the very top of his beige-blond head could be seen.

"Bela... Bela... Belarus is here?" a Russian voice stammered from under the desk.

Latvia looked from Prussia, who was still dangling 15 feet up, his feet trying to find purchase on the lower bookshelves, his face very red and his mouth uttering such threats she was sure were anatomically impossible, to what she could see of her boss – which wasn't that much – only huge size 14 army boots were now sticking out from under the office furniture.

"Er no, Sir, Katya," she said confidently. Who on earth was this 'Bela' person she wondered.

"Fucking hell, man. Is someone going to get me down from here?" Prussia gasped. He'd gone from standing on Russia's shoulders to get hold of a book from the top shelf to hanging onto the shelf for dear life.

"Why are you up there?" Latvia asked. If this was some strange sexual practice, she really had never heard of it. She was no innocent and having lived with a group of men for ten years she was used to such vagaries. However, this was a new one on her.

"What's it look like, Latvia dude?" Prussia asked her, looking down, "Waiting for a fucking bus? Or waiting for commie dude to have a personality transplant?"

Russia emerged from his 'hiding place' and, with as much dignity as he could muster, brushed himself down.

Russia stood underneath Gilbert and said impatiently, "Just jump and I will catch you."

Prussia, his fingertips slowly slipping from the wooden shelf seemed to actually consider this and then, closing his eyes, let go.

At that very moment, the door opened and Estonia and Katya walked in.

"Sestra!" Russia, all memories of the previous five minutes erased, turned and rushed up to the tall, busty woman and flung his arms around her, squeezing her in a tight bear-hug.

Prussia fell very un-awesomely (although he would later say he fell 'with style') and winced as he landed with a whump on the floor, letting out another stream of expletives.

"You should not swear in front of a lady," Russia told him, still hugging his sister.

Prussia stood up, rubbing his lower back. He doubted very much that Ukraine could ever be described as a 'lady'.

Whilst Russia had been 'making defensive manoeuvres against a pre-emptive attack by his sister' (his words – i.e. hiding under a desk) and whilst Prussia had been playing at 'being 'Spider-Gil' most awesomely, clinging for his life whilst big, fat commie idiot was pissing his pants under the desk' (Prussia's words), Estonia had taken Katya out for a stroll in the garden.

* * *

><p>"Aw, she's nice. What's her name?" Katya had asked Estonia.<p>

"She's a he." Estonia had said quite definitely.

"Hahaha, oh Ed, you're so funny," Katya had said, and to the Estonian's utmost embarrassment, had tweaked his cheek, "You're so cute, but she is most definitely a she. You can give the poor girl a weird hair-do, put her in that awful baggy uniform like Toris, but she is still a she."

Estonia had sighed. He had no choice. They had to have Ukraine on board with this. She was a clever woman though and just plain pleading probably wouldn't work. But he knew what would.

"Okay, she's a girl, but Russia thinks she's a boy..."

"Oh, honestly, the big klutz," Ukraine laughed uproariously at this.

"So does Gilbert..." Estonia added.

"Haha, well he's so full of sh..." Ukraine stopped herself and smiled, "Go on, Ed..."

"Me and Toris have a bet on..."

"Hmmm, a bet, eh?"

"Well, I think the boss is so daft he won't figure it out ever..."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Haha, he's not that daft," Ukraine said, still laughing.

Here, Estonia did the deal-breaker, "Toris thinks Russia will guess ... he bet me 500 roubles that he'll find out on his own." Estonia lied, fingers crossed behind his back.

Katya's eyes lit up, "500 roubles is a lot of money," she said, "I could buy a new tractor with that..."

"I know..." Estonia confirmed. The line was cast, he just waited for the bait to be taken...

"Okay, I'm in... 500 roubles says he guesses before you lot gain independence."

"Oooh, Miss Katya, that's a lot of money, if I lose - I lose 1000 roubles to you and Toris."

Katya's eyes gleamed, she didn't care what Toris had said. "Vanya's not that daft... he'll find out sooner or later and I'm sorry, Ed, but independence is a fair way off."

Eduard sighed again, "Okay, it's a deal. But I think you'll be paying me," he said, "But..." and he paused and smiled at her, the fish was caught, he thought, just to reel it in, "All bets are off if you tell him," he said.

Ukraine sighed, "They'd be perfect together!" she almost wailed.

Estonia grinned, holding out his hand, "Deal or no deal? 500 roubles," he said.

Ukraine shrugged and shook his hand, "It's a deal, I won't tell him. But say goodbye to 500 roubles."

Estonia smiled and said to himself, "Hook, line and sinker."

* * *

><p>"So, Gilbert, oh awesome one? How's it feel to be a Soviet Republic?" Katya called to Gilbert as he staggered upstairs.<p>

"Fuck off, boobies. I ain't no shitty Soviet republic..." he called back, clutching his back.

"Kaliningrad?" she asked grinning, still stood at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled at Latvia's perplexed face. "Hello, sweetheart, I'm just indulging myself in a bit of Gil-baiting. We'll have a girly chat later."

"I ain't fucking Kalingrad!" Gilbert yelled back. Sodding commies, he thought, as he headed to the bathroom to soak his aching back.

"East Germany?" Katya yelled back and then turned to Latvia with a smile as Gilbert shouted back telling her to go away and procreate. "Come on, let's go and chat," and steered her into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Toris smacked their hands away from the steaming batch of chocolate chip cookies, "Those ones are for Mr Russia," he told them, "There's another batch coming out in a bit."<p>

Latvia frowned. This was another thing she didn't understand. Lithuania baked delicious chocolate chip cookies almost every day, with one batch especially for Russia that they (meaning she and Estonia) were not allowed to touch. However, Prussia, unusually, was allowed a single one. That was strange too, as Gilbert often went off into a little doze straight after with an almost cute smile on his face. It was all very perplexing.

"So, little Latvia, you're a girl?" Katya asked her and then seeing Latvia's horrified look, smiled, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. If you need anything and I mean, anything, just you ring your Auntie Kat. Are you alright for bras and personal stuff?"

Latvia frowned, "Wut... er I mean, what?"

Katya patted her on the head, "I'll take you shopping tomorrow and get you sorted. Toris does all the shopping so he won't have a clue that you need girly things."

Latvia had no idea what she was on about.

* * *

><p>Even more perplexing for Latvia was when the doorbell rang and she answered it to a blond-haired man wearing a skirt.<p>

"Well, well, well, and who are you?" the 'man' said, pursing his red lipsticked lips.

"Latvia. Who are you?" Latvia asked as the man batted his false eyelashes.

"I'm Poland, darling. Is Liet in?"

Latvia didn't have time to answer as Ukraine flung the door wide open and pulled Poland into a hug, "Feliks, you old tart! How's it going?"

"Katya! Sweetie! Long time, no see. I didn't know you were visiting. Who's this little Nation then? Hmm, he could do with a makeover..."

Latvia winced, oh please, no, she thought.

Ukraine laughed and pulled Poland into the hallway, "_He _is brother's new servant."

"Poor sod," Poland said and gave Latvia a commiserating look.

Estonia came through from the kitchen, "Tea's made, Poland. Toris is in there..." he then turned to Ukraine as the Polish man swished into the kitchen.

Latvia watched in absolute fascination, "He has great legs," she said wonderingly.

"Thanks, darling!" Pol called back.

"If you tell Poland, the deal's off," Estonia told Ukraine.

"Aw! You're such a spoilsport!"

"What deal?" Latvia asked, frowning.

"Never you mind," Estonia warned her and turned back to Katya, "You know he's the biggest gossip this side of the Iron Curtain."

"Oh, okay. I know, I know."

"Is that man Pol?" Latvia asked, finally catching on.

"The legend himself," Katya said pronouncing it 'leg end'.

"Wow. The man Toris likes?"

"Yes, sweetie, one and the same. Been together since forever... so sweet," Katya clasped her hands together and smiled.

"So gay..." came Prussia's voice.

* * *

><p>Latvia could almost pretend she was in the middle of a sitcom starring the most dysfunctional family ever. Russia, Latvia decided would be the slightly insane and alcoholic dad, Toris was the nurturing and well-meaning mom, she and Prussia were the naughty little kids who continually ribbed each other until they were sent to bed, Estonia the sharp older brother, whilst Katya and Pol were the bitchy, gossiping aunts.<p>

* * *

><p>That evening:<p>

"I bet you used up all that pink bubble bath, didn't you?" Russia asked Prussia.

The seven Nations were all sat in the living room, drinking vodka, beer (in Prussia's case), a vodka cocktail with a fancy straw (Poland's case) and playing poker for chocolate buttons.

Prussia ignored his boss, flung his cards down with a loud "Kesese! Full house, beat that, you losers!" and started gathering up his 'winnings'.

Russia threw his cards down in disgust, he never won – he often forgot half way through which game they were playing.

Estonia held up a hand, "Woah there, high roller... straight flush beats full house."

"You're a fucking cheat, Ed." Prussia argued.

Estonia just smiled and gathered up his winnings of 14 chocolate buttons.

Poland was about to suggest his usual suggestion of 'strip poker' – he was particularly interested in this new, young, male Nation who'd joined them. "He looks cute, like a little girly," he'd told Lithuania in a whisper.

"Leave him alone, Pol. He's been through a lot. He was on the run for a while. Poor kid was half starved when he came here."

Pol had shrugged at this.

Latvia had been fascinated by the Polish man's immaculately manicured nails which contrasted sharply with the Nagant pistol the Pole had concealed in a holster underneath his sharply designed suit jacket. (The Pole would have been equally fascinated by how Latvia had known the make, calibre, rate of fire and range of the handgun.)

Latvia was also fascinated at how the Pole seemed to get away with calling Russia 'Braginski' and not 'Boss' or 'Mr Russia' without getting battered around the head as had happened to Prussia on such a frequent basis that it was a wonder that Gilbert didn't have permanent concussion.

In fact, Latvia almost detected a grudging respect for the Pole from the Russian, whilst Poland seemed to treat Russia as one would treat a rather large, but quite possibly senile old bear, but a bear with claws.

It was while Latvia was pondering this when the doorbell rang.

Everyone looked at each other dumbly. Who calls at 8.30 pm?

"Get the door, Gilbert," Russia told Prussia.

"Sod off, I ain't your lackey," Prussia answered.

"Actually, you are."

This, Toris thought, could go on for hours, so he sighed and got up, "I'll get it..." he said with a sigh, "I do everything around here, anyway."

Russia was having none of this, "You've done enough, Toris. Latvia get up and get the door," he said and then swiped Prussia around the head for his temerity.

"Hey!" Latvia heard Prussia yell as she headed out of the room, "Dickwipe! Stop fucking hitting me!"

"Stop swearing!" Russia was heard to answer.

"Fuck off!" Prussia yelled and was obviously rewarded with another smack around the head as she heard him yell again.

Latvia opened the door, dreading it being the KGB. Perhaps, they'd decided to come back for her and the Gulag beckoned.

It wasn't, or KGB agents were now in the guise of small, slender, blond-haired girls.

"Privet! Who are you?" the girl asked. She was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, which Latvia knew Russia liked and she seemed... nice.

"Latvia... and you are?" she asked the girl.

The girl smiled, it was a nice smile, Latvia thought, but there was something, she couldn't think what, which was slightly 'off'. Perhaps it was the eyes which were very blue like cornflowers but very cold.

"Hello, Latvia. Please to meet you. Can I come in?" the girl asked. "I'm Natalya, I'm just delivering these beautiful sunflowers for Russia."

"Of course," Latvia said and held the door open. What harm could it possibly do? She seemed innocent enough. Her smile seemed a bit... too much.

Natalya's reaction was extreme to say the least. She practically leapt into the hallway with a triumphant yell and it was only when Latvia was pinned against the wall by a cruel-looking knife that she thought, 'This girl is really not right in the head.'

"Who are you? Why are you here? Are you interested in my brother?" Natalya asked her.

Latvia had done a lot of hand-to-hand combat, she could punch like a man and had fought her way out of many situations but the speed and suddenness of the attack totally floored her.

"Brother? I don't understand... I'm not... I don't... oh ..." realisation hit her, "You must be Belarus?"

Belarus nodded and, gauging that Latvia was a 'boy' and possibly no real 'threat', started to back off, her knife disappearing into some concealed pocket of her blue dress. Her face relaxed a little and she actually smiled, creepily, "Hmmm, Latvia... thank you for letting me in," she said and then her demeanour changing just as fast, in a twinkling, she said, "Is big brother in?"

Latvia nodded hurriedly and pointed to the living room.

Belarus smiled as charmingly as she could. 'I might have an ally here,' she thought. 'If I can frighten the boy enough,' she thought, 'he can be my eyes and ears and keep an eye on darling big brother'.

"Oh big brother!" she called in a sweet, melodious voice.

Latvia stepped out of the way, remembering one of Lithuania's and Estonia's rules – far too late. Oh well, she thought, how bad can it be? She seems okay. Nutty like the rest of them. But she's obviously just protective of her brother. Just a protective little sister, Latvia thought. But she decided not to hang around to see the effects of her error.

As pandemonium seemed to erupt in the living room, and she heard Toris shout in exasperation, "Latviaaaaaaaa!", she ran up the stairs two and at a time, and threw herself into her attic bedroom, slamming the door.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, the remaining Baltics and Katya all tried to lead Belarus away from her 'darling brother'. After flinging her arms around him before he'd even managed to vault over the sofa and hide, she then, with the unerring accuracy of a circus knife-thrower, had flung a total of six knives behind her to slow her antagonists down. The knives formed a perfect outline on the wall around an aghast Prussia who had previously yelled, "Woohoo a perfect match – mad crazy bitch and mad crazy fattie!" whilst swigging his beer.<p>

She finally cornered the tall Russian into a corner, after chasing him around the room, a knife in one hand, bizarrely, a bunch of sunflowers in the other, telling him that she 'had booked the church, the flowers, all he had to do was turn up and they would become one'.

"Natalya, come away, sweetie... Look, sestra... look - I've got a nice shiny copy of Knives Monthly for you." Katya's voice was sugary sweet as she tentatively put a hand on her little sister's arm.

Russia was pressed against a corner, a knife pressed against his throat as his dear little sister - a foot shorter than him - told him of their wedding arrangements.

Anyone else but his dear little sister would have been scraping themselves up off the nearby walls, ceiling and floor and Russia was starting to panic now as he felt the knife starting to cut into his already-scarred neck. He shook his head and said as gently as he could, "Natty... I can't... we can't..."

Toris and Eduard were stood helplessly, Toris looked particularly heart-broken. Prussia, pulled the knives from the wall around him and stopped kesesing at his boss's predicament, although he was still quietly smirking.

It was, bizarrely, Poland who helped free Russia. "You go, girl!" the Pole yelled, to Toris' horror and then added, "... and don't come back!"

Belarus spun around, her eyes a gleaming horrid icy-blue, "Who said that?" she hissed.

Russia took this opportunity and dodged out.

Poland held up his hand as if in class, "Hey, Bela, it was me! Can you give me a clue as to why I should actually care?"

Belarus snarled and, shoving her sister and Toris out of the way, strode up to the Pole, her brother forgotten. "I don't like you," she growled as she held the knife up to the Pole's face.

"Sweetie, my little praying mantis, you really should know me by now. Do I honestly look like I give a flying fuck? Really? Honestly? I mean I'm not very good at acting like I care, and I'm pretty sure I don't know what your problem is, sweetie, but I'm sure I can't pronounce it."

Everyone held their breath.

Toris, in particular, felt his chest swell with pride. It was the Pole's courage – foolhardy sometimes in the extreme - that made him love the small, odd, cross-dresser.

It was Prussia, the No. 2 troll who broke the tension, "Hey, Bela... did you get your money back?"

Belarus spun around. Having more than one idiot to spar with was too much for her, "Where from?" she growled.

"Charm school! Kesese!"

Poland shook his head, really is that all the Prussian could come up with? "Hey Bela?" Pol called.

Belarus spun back around, her face bright pink.

"So did you choose to humiliate yourself today? Was it written on your calendar?" Poland asked in all seriousness.

Belarus spluttered, "You... you... gay... I hate you... I hate you..." Belarus ran out of words and just waved her knife at the Pole.

Quick as flash, Poland came back with: "You don't have to repeat yourself, honey. I was ignoring you the first time." Poland then looked her up and down and tutted, "I mean sweetie, that dress? Did the charity shop have a sale again?"

Belarus was actually speechless, but her knife-hand was already raised to slash the Pole's face.

"See this hand?" Poland waved a hand in front of her face, "It's going to descend in huge arc... like this..." he demonstrated "... that will, in process, make contact with your face..." he slapped her, hard around the face, "... just like that."

Belarus was knocked backwards and her sister grabbed her.

"Right, Natalya, you're coming with me to see that nice doctor," Katya said and starting dragging her sister out of the door.

Belarus was kicking and screaming obscenities at Poland and then spat at Prussia as he opened the door nonchalantly.

"Bye then... Call again soon... Send a postcard... OMG that was so funny I almost forgot to laugh," Pol said and then picked up his cocktail and sipped it. "Picking on stupid people is so much fun," he concluded.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Russia had been desperately trying to find a hiding place. His study? No she always looked in there. He heard the shouting and the obscenities flying and knew it was only a matter of time before she came charging after him. He ran up the stairs two at a time, wrapping his scarf around his neck more securely as he felt blood trickle down from the cut she'd made with her knife. He then spotted the rickety wooden stairs to the attic and ran up them – his 200 pound plus weight causing them to creak dangerously.<p>

Latvia was laid on her bed, her hands behind her head as she heard the various crashes and shouting from downstairs. She whistled innocently. It's not my fault, she thought, how was I to know? Then the door burst open and Russia flung himself in, his hair wild, his face flushed.

Latvia practically fell off the bed in fear. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, she thought, this is it... I'm going to be raped.

"Latvia? Oooooh, this is your bedroom?" Russia asked as he slammed the door shut, and then, bizarrely started to barricade it with a chest of drawers.

'Oh god,' she thought, 'he's trapping me here. I won't be allowed to leave.'

He finished his barricading and then jumped on the bed next to her, where she'd sat frozen in fear. Carefully, she slipped a hand under her pillow and eased out the kitchen knife secreted there and held it behind her back. She had no idea if it would do any good against someone as big and strong as Russia but she was determined to fight if necessary.

Russia looked her up and down, "Can I stay here for a bit?" he asked and then, without waiting for an answer, put his hand in his jacket pocket, pulled out a bottle of vodka and handed it to her.

It reminded her so much of someone she once knew, that for a moment, she was taken aback.

Russia urged her to take a drink and then took out some long metal needles.

Latvia almost fell of the bed in horror. He was going to torture her before drugging and raping her! She tried to scramble away.

Russia frowned and pulled out a ball of blue wool, "Don't you like knitting, Mr Latvia? I'm about to start a new scarf... you can help me with casting on..."

Latvia fainted.

**Author's Notes:**

**I wanted to write a cracky chapter after the angst of the last one.**

**Feel free to review/PM/comment.**


	15. Domovoi

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz. I don't own anything – apart from this laptop, a notebook and a pen oh and a dog (he doesn't write these stories though**).

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, DefinitionOfMyself, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, ****Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, ****Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, ****Art and Soul, ****Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11,**** AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Setting: Leningrad, mid 1950s.**

Chapter 15 - Domovoi

Latvia was up early for a change, indeed before Toris and wandered down to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. She looked out of the window, it was a beautiful Spring morning, birds were tweeting in the garden and the plants that she'd planted weeks before were just flowering.

She'd been apprehensive at first about planting anything. She'd asked permission first from Toris as she found Russia's garden just a blank expanse of overgrown grass and weeds. But having lived in the green countryside and forests for so long she missed the outdoors the most. Toris had told her to do what she wanted and hinted that Russia loved sunflowers. She'd doubted at first that anything could survive in the harsh, frozen soil. It had taken her and Prussia (whom she'd bribed with the promise of beer) many hours to turn the soil over to get bulbs and seeds in but now as the frost had finally abated and the final clutches of Winter had retreated she could see the fruits of her labour.

She whistled, feeling almost happy and content. Things weren't that bad in Russia's household. In the past few months, she'd kept her head down, said little in front of her boss, did as Toris told her, followed Estonia's example of 'say nothing and keep your eyes and ears open' and ribbed Prussia mercilessly when she got the chance, but then he called her 'dude girly' whenever he could.

She hummed quietly to herself, reached into her tunic, adjusting her bra, rubbed her short blond hair and almost screamed when she saw Russia's face peering at her through the kitchen window.

"Sir! You scared me!" she yelped and hurriedly dragged her tunic around her, adjusting herself quickly. Had he seen her fiddling with her bra? She'd told Katya she needed a new one...

Russia tapped on the window, waved cheerily and then stomped in through the kitchen door - opening it first thankfully.

"Privet, little Latvia. What are you doing? Where is Toris?"

"Erm, Sir... I had an itch... I was adjusting my erm... vest..." she said lamely.

Russia frowned, looking her up and down. He really wondered about little Latvia. He himself wore several layers of clothing because of his many scars – long, ridged, silvery lines running up and down his body, etched on his skin as testament to the many bloodthirsty battles, run-ins with his many mentally-disturbed bosses and fending off various enemy Nations.

Gilbert was always wandering around in his vest showing off his puny, laughable 'muscles', and Estonia and Lithuania often went around in shirt sleeves when it was warm. Perhaps little Latvia had scars that he didn't want anyone to see and that's why the little Baltic always wore long sleeves and long trousers? Like Toris, Russia thought. Toris had scars on his back from... Russia decided to brush that memory away.

"I was outside looking at the beautiful flowers, little Raivis," he said. It wasn't a lie, he had been outside admiring the flowers – he liked flowers, sunflowers especially, and sunflowers, roses, lilies and a few wild flowers were starting to peek through the soil. He'd been surprised. It had been many years since anything had grown – apart from grass – on his garden. But he'd also been outside to do something else, which he would have been embarrassed should the Baltics or Prussia (definitely Prussia) find out.

"Are you making coffee?" Russia said hurriedly.

Latvia nodded and wondered why he looked so flustered. She was unused to spending any time alone with Russia. Apart from his teaching her to knit several weeks ago, there was usually Toris, Eduard or Gilbert, around.

She handed him a mug of coffee and he wandered off happily.

Latvia carefully opened the door and stepped outside. "I bloody hope he hasn't damaged my flowers or picked those sunflowers... they could grow really tall if he leaves them alone..." she muttered to herself. She was curious. He'd looked so incongruous out there and had looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Also he'd looked almost sheepish.

She could find nothing wrong however. But placed on the doorstep was an old Army boot alongside, rather weirdly, a piece of bread. She picked them up, frowning and went back inside. Perhaps Mr Russia had taken a snack outside and left them. But why just one boot? He was wearing both when he came in, she was sure. Although she hadn't really looked at his feet but he hadn't been hobbling.

* * *

><p>She addressed these puzzling questions to Toris when he came down and started breakfast. Toris did all the cooking. Prussia's attempts always seemed to end in singed hair and a call to the Leningrad Fire Service. Estonia was usually 'too busy'. Latvia's attempts had been so pitiful that even Russia – who claimed to have eaten boiled rat in the battle of Stalingrad – couldn't consume the contents of his plate.<p>

"You don't need to know, Latvia. And if the boss wants to leave a boot and a piece of bread outside who are we to argue?"

"Do you think he might be... you know... loopy?"

Toris raised an eyebrow and spooned out several ladles of porridge into a large bowl and handed it to Latvia, "Take this to Mr Russia along with another mug of black coffee and stop asking questions."

"I know but..."

"Latviaaaa! Do as you're told..." Toris said, exasperated.

Latvia slouched down the hallway, passing Gilbert who swaggered into the kitchen.

"Hey, Latvia dude. Wassup?"

"Gilbert, do you know why Mr Russia puts old boots outside... and bits of bread?" she asked.

"Kesese! Is he now? The big loon..." Gilbert carried on laughing to the kitchen and ignored the Latvian.

She sighed and entered Russia's study, "I brought your breakfast, Mr Russia," she stammered and placed the tray in front of him.

Russia was rubbing his beige-blond hair and not looking happy.

"Latvia, tell everyone to be in the kitchen in five minutes. I need to talk to you all," he told her. He was looking frowning at a piece of paper in his hand as he said it.

"Okay, Sir," she said and found herself shivering. Russia looked suddenly so stern after his good humour just thirty minutes earlier that she felt a horrid sense of dread.

* * *

><p>"Fucking hell," was Gilbert's reaction as she relayed the order and the dreadful look on Russia's face, "I bet it's a one way ticket to Siberia..."<p>

"Or... Miss Belarus is on her way," Estonia said, tremulously.

They all looked at each other in horror. And Poland wasn't around to out-troll the young Belorussian this time.

"Will everyone shut up? We don't know anything yet... Ed, you usually know everything that's going on, have you heard anything?" Toris asked his fellow Baltic.

"Boss had a meeting yesterday with some KGB officials..."

Latvia tensed and she and Prussia exchanged horrified looks. Then Prussia flexed his biceps (fruitlessly, Latvia thought) "I ain't scared of them bastards... come and get me if they dare..."

"... and a representative from the Government also spoke to him. He was there a while and left some papers for him to read. And then the guy ran out looking rather scared," Estonia continued. This latter piece of information was nothing new - most Government officials ended the meeting by running from Russia's kolkolling.

"Calm down, we're not going to Siberia," Toris sighed.

"_You're _not going to Siberia. _You're_ fat commie bastard's favourite little Baltic," Prussia said, saying the words 'little Baltic' in a high-pitched camp voice that he imagined mimicked Russia's perfectly. "But it doesn't look that good for me and dude Latvia. He hates me and dude Latvia's about as much use as a chocolate fireguard."

"But I'm the smallest and I only got here a few months ago... and the KGB said they would send me to Siberia and..." Latvia's eyes filled with tears. She was in a panic now. She was off to Siberia. She couldn't cook, she'd put a red sock in the washing machine with Mr Russia's scarves the other day and they'd come out pink, she'd fallen asleep the other day in his library whilst dusting and just planting flowers weren't enough to save her from the Gulag...

Russia came in, still holding the piece of paper, a very awful, grim look on his face.

"S...S...Sir?" Toris stammered, "Is everything alright?" he asked. He knew Russia's moods inside out and Latvia had been right, things did not look good.

Latvia made a strategic decision and flung herself at his feet, "P...p...please don't send me to Siberia, sir... I'll learn to cook and I'll plant more sunflowers and...I'm..." she was about to say 'a girl' when she felt a huge hand lifting her up and placing her back on her feet.

Russia, rather gently for someone with such strength, wiped a stray tear from her cheek, "It's okay, little Raivis. Who said you were going to Siberia?" Russia frowned and looked around at the rest of his 'staff'.

Latvia sagged with relief, held up by Lithuania. "Stupid Comrades of the Treasury told me that I was spending too much money on vodka..." Russia said and glared at Prussia as the said Teutonic ex-nation snorted, "...and beer..." Prussia looked up then, totally appalled.

"That's impossible! You can never spend too much money on beer!" Prussia all but yelled.

Russia ignored him, "So that means they have cut my expenses. I only have my war pension as a General. Toris, you have a small pension from the War and Estonia I think you might have a pension too? But we have to cut back..." Russia was clearly not happy about this.

Estonia made some rapid calculations in his head. He had a private salary from his dividends from a little-known but international company called Von Bock Enterprises, but he wasn't about to reveal this to his fellow 'inmates'. "If we stop buying alcohol, start growing vegetables and cut back on our food bill a little..." he began.

There were various gasps around the kitchen. Russia was utterly appalled. "Stop buying vodka!"

"Stop buying beer!" Prussia, for once, was in agreement with Russia.

"We could get jobs!" Latvia said and they all looked at her as if she'd just grown another head.

"Who would employ _us_?" Toris asked quietly.

Russia patted Lativa on the head, "Little Latvia is right," he said quietly. "I have told my Government that I will go back on active service..."

"Fucking hell, man!" Prussia almost laughed out loud, "Are they looking to start another war? Jeez!"

Russia growled, "I do not go around starting wars... but I do finish them." he pointed out, looking at Gilbert meaningfully.

"You've been out of action too long... not like me... I've kept in shape," Prussia said and flexed a bicep and winked at Latvia.

Latvia frowned, completely unconvinced.

"Are you saying I am fat?" Russia said and approached the smaller Nation with a purple aura around his shoulders. "I train with the Spetsnaz..."

"Well, I suppose we could get jobs... Ed, aren't you a qualified accountant?" Toris asked hurriedly.

"I am, and I have a degree in law," Estonia made a mental note that he wasn't getting out of bed for less than 5 rubles an hour.

"What can I do?" Latvia asked.

"Kesese! We'll sell you to the highest bidder!" Prussia laughed, still tweaking his 'muscles' and avoiding Russia's glare.

* * *

><p>As it happened, no-one was sold to anyone. But they all had jobs – in a manner of speaking.<p>

Toris worked in an expensive restaurant as a waiter and appeared to get more in tips in one evening than anyone else earned in a week. He put this down, blushing, to the number of rich, bored wives of Soviet officials who evidently thought he was 'cute'.

Estonia told Russia he had a job at a local tax accountants', but spent his time instead at the local spa baths, and withdrew modest amounts of cash from one of his own numerous Swiss bank accounts as a 'wage'.

Latvia and Prussia got jobs cleaning at the local KGB headquarters – a job Russia had procured for them. As it happened, Prussia was sacked within two hours for making obscene gestures at the cute, but married receptionist (gender unknown), pressing the lift buttons on each floor, photocopying his 'awesome' arse and pinning numerous copies on the notice-boards (written underneath was the witty bon mot - 'Kiss this'), and trying to induce Latvia into a swivel chair race. She would have nothing to do with any of this. She hadn't stopped shivering since arriving at her workplace, kept her head down, polished everything in sight and counted down the minutes until she could go home.

Russia had told his Baltics he was back on 'active' service. Actually, he had never been 'inactive' although his Government told him he was. They'd found it easier that way, Russia's involvement in disputes usually ended with more bloodshed than they needed – and not just on the enemy's side. Thus, although Russia did train with the Russian Special Services twice-yearly (although this was viewed as not always a good thing, the powers-that-be did hope that perhaps one day their Nation could be bested in a fight – it never happened), he was kept 'in reserve'. They told him they would call him if and when the Motherland was under serious threat.

So, when he told his boss he would work for more pay, they had to think up a job, hopefully a fairly innocuous one, one where he couldn't do too much damage and one where it would keep him occupied. Many suggestions had been put forward – nuclear weapons tester (as he seemed indestructible), bomb disposal (ditto), test pilot (until someone pointed out that Russia could barely drive in a straight line) and assassin (the latter job was generally agreed would probably be the most appropriate but what worried them was the verve with which Russia would have carried out his job – a job he'd had before). So finally, they gave him the job of bodyguard.

* * *

><p>"Kesese! Fucking Soviets have no sense of humour!" Prussia yelled, his feet up on the table, swigging beer. The only time in his awesome existence he'd ever been in paid employment and he'd been sacked after two hours – awesome.<p>

Latvia dropped into a chair and glared at the Prussian, "It's not fair. You get the sack and I'm having to work. How come you have beer?"

"I bought this with my hard-earned wages, dude Latvia girly chick."

"Stop calling me that... Toris, tell him!"

Toris sighed, and pulled out several hundred rubles from his apron, "Here's my tips from the last week," he said, "And shut up, Raivis, and Gilbert stop calling him a girly chick."

"You didn't earn anything! You were kicked out by that big KGB bruiser..." Latvia shuddered.

Eduard came in, "Hey guys... how's it going?" he said and slumped in his chair. He ran a hand through his short blond hair, "Phew, I'm beat..."

Toris glared at his brother Baltic suspiciously, ignoring the heated debate going on between Latvia and Prussia. How come Estonia came in looking fresh as a daisy, in fact as relaxed as if he'd just come back from a holiday, whilst they were all exhausted? Actually, Estonia had spent the day lounging in a spa, having a back-rub and doing property deals with the local top Soviet Government officials.

"Hi kids, I'm home!" Russia called chirpily and strode into the kitchen. "Did everyone have a good day at work?" he asked.

Prussia grunted, Latvia rubbed her sore back, Toris sighed and Estonia nodded – it certainly beat doing Russia's paperwork, oh, he realised, he still had that to do as well.

"I had a good day!" Russia told them, "The person I'm bodyguarding..."

Prussia did a spit-take, "Kesese! Bodyguard... hahaha!"

"Da, what is your problem, Gilbert?" Russia growled.

"A bodyguard? Where at? A kindergarten?" Prussia laugh was then suddenly cut short by a large Russian hand on his throat.

Latvia thought it made sense, who on earth would attack a person if their bodyguard was Russia?

"You were saying, sir?" Lithuania asked, trying to divert Russia's attention from throttling the life out of the Prussian.

"Da," Russia dropped Gilbert just as quickly as he'd picked him up, "My client said he didn't need me anymore and after just one day with me he felt so safe he didn't need a bodyguard ever again! I was that good..."

Latvia almost choked on her coffee. She could just imagine the poor guy being so terrified of Russia that he/she would risk any assassination threat.

"So they assigned me to someone else I told them that I would protect them with Mr Pipe, but they wouldn't come out from under their desk... So, then I was assigned to someone else and that was a lady and I said I would drive her to where she needed to go - I'm very good at defensive driving... Anyway..." here, Russia took a sip of his vodka, and looked around the kitchen at the varying emotions on the faces around him (Latvia wide-eyed, Prussia's mouth was quivering from trying not to laugh, Estonia was shaking his head, only Toris looked unsurprised). "...but when she got out of the car she said she had to go and lie down in a dark room."

Latvia looked at Prussia – who was stuffing his fist into his mouth and trying not to laugh.

"You should be on stage, kesese," Prussia finally said.

Russia shook his head, "Wut?" he said and then, most bizarrely, Latvia thought, picked up a bowl of bread and butter and took it outside.

"What's all that about?" Latvia asked, "Is he feeding the birds?"

"Domovoi," Toris said simply and began making dinner.

"Domo... what?" Latvia said.

"Kesese! Fat commie thinks we have a house spirit," Prussia said.

"Wut... I mean, what?" Latvia said, completely confused.

Toris sighed and started peeling potatoes, "Ed, explain to her."

"It's a Slavic tradition... Mr Russia said he heard pots and pans clanging in the night and said that things have been moved... And with this latest edict from his boss, he thinks the house spirit is bringing us bad luck," Eduard explained patiently.

Prussia fingered one of the saucepans and laughed, "Well... I wonder why he thinks that...Kesese! Stupid, idiotic Russkie..."

"A...a... house spirit?" Latvia trembled and looked around.

"They're usually supposed to be good things..." Eduard paused and looked at Prussia suspiciously, who was whistling and grinning.

"B...b...but what about the bread and the boot?" she asked, nervously looking around her. She didn't like the sound of this 'house spirit' at all.

Toris took up the story as he started hacking at a large piece of meat, "Households are supposed to leave them presents to keep them happy otherwise they will leave... Pol believes in them. He says his is called Shirley... don't ask..."

"Kesese! These un-awesome Nations... hilarious..." Prussia was laughing.

"Sh...Sh... Shirley?" Latvia stuttered.

Russia came stomping back in the room, looking pleased with himself. In his rather large hands he held an old army boot – the same one Latvia had seen on the doorstep just the other day.

"Look kids! Look what I found!" he said happily.

"Fucking A... an old boot... whoopee-doo," Prussia mumbled, shaking his head and twirling a finger at his temple to indicate that there was a fault in Russia's brain.

"Nyet, not just a boot... look inside," Russia held the boot open for them to look.

"Shit, I bloody hope it's not some poor bugger's head," Prussia muttered.

Russia elbowed him roughly out of the way and motioned Latvia to come forward, "Come on, little Latvia, you can look. You are the smallest and quietest..." he glared at Gilbert, "... and you won't frighten it."

Latvia, shaking and trembling, edged closer. Dear God, she thought, what did he have, Prussia was right it could be anything ranging from a severed hand to a sunflower. It was neither - curled up and wrapped in Russia's glove was a tiny ball of fluffy dark grey fur.

"It's a kitten!" Latvia cried and gently reached in and lifted the tiny creature out.

Russia nodded, smiling, "Not just any kitten... I found it curled up in the boot..."

"I think, Sir, it's just a stray kitten. Perhaps it got lost and we should perhaps put a notice out, see if we can find its rightful owner," Toris said quietly, knowing where this was going.

Russia shook his head, he knew different. He watched with wide, purple eyes as Latvia gently wrapped the tiny animal, hardly bigger than her hand in a tea-towel and held it to her chest.

"Aw... can we keep him... her...?" she looked from Toris to Russia and then to Ed.

Eduard raised his palms upwards, "Leave me outta this," he said hurriedly.

"Da, we will. He is our new house... sp...cat..." Russia said happily.

Even Prussia stroked the tiny head, and then hurriedly sat down before he, the great awesome one who was not, in any way shape or form affected by cute kittens, could feel a warm fuzzy ball of softness explode in his awesome belly. "It'll chew everything and pee everywhere," he grumbled, eyeing the tiny bundle of fur in Latvia's arms as she poured milk into a bowl.

"Just like you then, Gilbert," Russia said.

* * *

><p>It was ascertained that the kitten was a boy. And it did pee everywhere and chew most things – particularly Prussia's belongings. Latvia spent much of her time nursing the tiny animal, who they'd named 'Russi-cat' or 'Boris'. Lithuania, who was the most socially conscious of the household put up notices enquiring about a lost kitten, but nobody came forward. (Russia had followed him around and taken them down, just to be sure.)<p>

In the weeks that followed, as the kitten grew from a mewling, tiny bundle of fur into something far more substantial that batted at Prussia with sharpened claws, climbed up and down the curtains in Russia's study and was generally treated as a furry baby by Latvia and Russia – both of whom sang to it and rocked it to sleep. As the kitten grew larger, the household's fortunes seem to change.

* * *

><p>Russia's bosses called him in and told him his expenses were to be increased and that they no longer required him to work as a bodyguard. (This caused much relief to his 'clients' who had all refused to come into work, one was in a mental asylum, another in hospital with broken ribs after Russia had thrown himself over the poor person's body to 'protect' them from the threat of imminent assassination from... a donut delivery man.)<p>

Belarus rang her dear darling brother and told him that her boss had told her she couldn't visit for a while, there was too much work she had to do.

Prussia got hit by a bad case of laryngitis and couldn't speak or say a word for a whole two weeks. (He did use mime and sign language though, but the rest of the household's inhabitants pretended not to understand.)

Estonia made contact with a man who knew a man who knew a man who could forge Soviet exit visas and placed an order.

Lithuania found the saucepans that had been missing for weeks – in the downstairs closet – mystery solved, he thought. Now he could make his best American meatloaf.

Latvia's fortune was rather different, however. The day after the kitten was found and taken in, she arrived at work as usual to begin her mopping of the vast reception area of the headquarters of the local KGB. She was stopped by a large foot on the mop-head. She looked up with frightened eyes into the hard, cold eyes of her interrogator. Stood either side of him were the two KGB officers who'd sneeringly brought her to Russia's house just months before. She shivered and carefully and politely tried to get her mop back.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Latvia who wouldn't tell me anything... sooooo brave," the KGB chief interrogator taunted, "Told me all that shit about not being in the Forest Brothers and not knowing anything... when ... guess what? You happen to be the commander of the eastern division... who'd have thought?" the man looked seriously pissed, Latvia thought. She'd managed to con him into thinking that she'd just been a foot soldier, knew nothing, was a nobody, insignificant. She froze.

The man turned to his fellow officers, Spanner-face No. 1 and Spanner-face No. 2, "Let's take him down to the cells and see what he'll tell us this time?"

There was nowhere to run, Latvia picked up her mop and wondered how long she could hold off three armed KGB officers with cleaning equipment.

She didn't need to worry.

A large hand suddenly descended on her shoulder and pulled her back, "Little Latvia is with me," came a low growl.

Latvia felt herself dragged bodily back against what could only described as a large padded brick wall. Russia put an arm around her protectively, looming over her, "I suggest you go on your way, gentlemen," Russia said, very, very quietly.

Latvia felt her knees quivering and tried to stay as still as she could.

There was a flicker of hesitation, fear and alarm on the KGB officers' faces.

The senior officer looked Russia right in the eyes, "Sir, he's a wanted criminal. A head of the..." he didn't get to finish as Russia pushed Latvia behind him and punched the man out soundly, the body hit the un-mopped floor with a thunk. He turned to the other two men, "Anyone touches my Baltics and I will rip their heads off, da?" he said simply, broaching no further argument. There were frantic nods.

Russia turned, took the mop out of Latvia's hands – she was still frozen in a mixture of shock and relief, picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and strode out.

"Sir... Sir... I..."

"Come on, little Latvia. We're going home now." Russia said simply.

* * *

><p>Some hours later:<p>

Russia sat in his study, Russi-cat on his knee, "It's okay, little domovoi, you stay with us. I will look after you... don't leave us again, da?" he murmured.

Large sapphire-blue eyes looked back at him, blinking slowly and the cat purred sleepily against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

**A 'domovoi' is a house spirit in Slavic folklore. Often male, they are small, hairy often with a beard. They usually bring luck to, and protect a household. Russian households often put out old boots for them to hide in and pieces of bread and other 'offerings' to keep them happy. When a new house is built they often put a piece of bread under the stove for the 'domovoi' to eat – apparently they live under stoves, in attics or in the cellars. Usually invisible, they can be shape-shifters and take on animal form such as cats and dogs. They are also supposed to move things and bang pots and pans if they are annoyed.**

**Russi-cat/Boris – I gave the name 'Boris' to Russi-cat back in Baltics Secrets – a little author insert there, plus I used to have a hamster called Boris – which is where I took my pen-name. (Haha, most author inserts are Mary-Sues with a romantic interest in the leading character, my author insert is a cat... that pees everywhere no less).**

**So is Russi-cat a domovoi? Russia seems to think so... and as this chapter was set in the 1950s and Baltics Secrets/Revelations is in the early 1980s that's one hell of an old cat...**

**Next chapter – love-struck Russia...**


	16. Fallen Empires

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz. I just borrowed these characters and put them back in the box afterwards (I did wash Russia's scarf as well).**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, DefinitionOfMyself, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Partly co-written with VengefulCat who wanted me to write a chapter where Vietnam visits.**

**A/N: The beginning may look like your bog-standard abusive RussiaxBaltics fics... erm yeah. Come on guys, you all know me...**

**Setting: Leningrad, 1969 or thereabouts**

Chapter 16 - Fallen Empires

"Scream, little Latvia... scream as if your life depends on it..." Russia growled. His purple irises were cloudy and wild, his breath stank of vodka, he swayed dangerously, but his arm was gripping her waist so tightly she felt as if she had very little breath with which to breathe, let alone scream.

Latvia screamed, "Aaargh, Sir... Please don't..."

On the other end of the telephone receiver - which dangled mid-air, Toris listened in absolute horror. "Noooo! Latviaaaaa!" he yelled. "Please, Sir... don't hurt him..."

There was another yell and a sobbing choke, and Latvia gasped, "Please Sir, don't hit me..."

"Latviaaaaaaaaaa!"

* * *

><p>Earlier that day:<p>

Latvia was in the kitchen, washing up some cutlery, when there was a soft knock on the front door.

"Will you get that please, Raivis? My hands are covered in pastry," Lithuania said. He was in the process of making some pirozhki (a sort of pastry-like bun) for lunch. The meat for the filling was already in the oven, but getting the buns just right had taken more time than anticipated.

"Yes, alright," Latvia muttered, drying her hands before heading off to answer the door.

When she opened the door, a young woman was standing in front of her. She had very long, black hair tied up in a braid, lightly tanned skin and she was for some reason carrying a large paddle.

"Can I help you?" Latvia asked, wondering what this woman could possibly want with any of the Baltics, or her boss for that matter. She couldn't recall having met her before.

"Possibly. Is Russia around?" The girl asked. "I need to speak with him as soon as possible."

"I think he's upstairs." Latvia replied. "Sir?" She called upstairs.

"_Da_." Came the answer from Russia's study. "I'm working on paperwork with Esty, what is it? Is lunch ready?

"_Nyet_. There is a lady here to see you. I think it's urgent." Latvia answered. "He'll be down here in a minute, why don't you come in?"

She stepped aside to let the woman come in. "Thank you," the woman said gratefully. "It's very cold out there, very unlike my home..."

"Yes, it takes a while to get used to. Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Vietnam. Well, actually, I am Vietnam..." _I thought she was a Nation, _Latvia thought. _I've never met her before, since Russia goes to all the meetings on behalf of the entire Soviet Union, but she has that aura about her._

"I'm Latvia, but you can call me Raivis if you like." Latvia offered.

At this point, Toris came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel as he went. "Latvia, the pastries are in the oven... ooh." His eyes took in the sight of Vietnam, as she stood shivering in the hallway of Russia's house. "Miss Vietnam, nice to see you again," Toris said politely, taking one of her hands in his own and kissing it gently. Vietnam smiled.

"Alô, Toris. I haven't seen you in a while."

_Am I missing something? _Latvia wondered, after rolling her eyes at Toris's obvious flirting. She didn't have time to ask the connection between the two, however, as her boss was soon coming down the stairs, followed by a frustrated-looking Estonia. Lithuania finally let go of Vietnam's hand.

"Privet, Miss Vietnam!" Russia said, as he finally arrived in the hallway. "Little Raivis, why didn't you say it was Miss Vietnam? I thought it might be the KGB. That's why I didn't hurry downstairs."

"I didn't actually know, sir." Latvia answered.

"Oh, well. At least that paperwork is done now, _da_, Esty?" Ivan gave Estonia a look that quite pointedly said that even if the paperwork wasn't done, he wouldn't be doing any more of it.

"_Da_." Estonia replied, hitching his glasses up as they were sliding off his nose.

"Oh good. Now then, kids. Miss Vietnam will be staying with us for a while because we need to sort out trading agreements. So you will all be very nice to her and make sure she feels welcome, _da_?"

"Oh yes, very welcome," Toris said happily, winking surreptitiously at Vietnam. "Come with me, Miss Vietnam. I'll show you around. Is she staying in the nice guest room, Mr Russia?"

"_Da._" Ivan replied, looking on approvingly as his eldest Baltic took Vietnam's coat and led her upstairs. "I like Toris. He's very polite to my guests?"

"Sure..." Estonia muttered. He had come to suspect that Toris probably had ulterior motives, but since the boss hadn't noticed this due to his mind being elsewhere (who knew where?) he decided not to say anything. Russia happily drifted back upstairs, humming to himself.

Latvia took Estonia to one side before he could escape. "How do those two know each other?"

"Who two?" Estonia asked.

"Lithuania and Vietnam. He's never mentioned her before."

"Ah. Back in the 1950s when all the business with South Vietnam first started, she came here for refuge. The boss took quite a shine to her, but so did Toris..."

Latvia nodded. "Ah, I see." _That explains why I haven't met her before. I was still living in the forest back then..._

"But Russia's got other things to think about, since Mr America's got himself involved this time. I expect he'll be in full 'lovestruck' mode shortly, though." Estonia finished.

"How come you aren't turning into mush, too?"

Estonia smiled. "Because... Ah, nevermind. It doesn't matter." And then he wandered off, daydreaming happily about Ukraine to avoid contemplating the mountain of paperwork waiting for him in Russia's office.

* * *

><p>Lunch was an interesting affair, Latvia thought. Russia had obviously taken great care in his appearance. He'd actually had a proper shave, combed his unruly hair and put on a clean jacket and scarf – one that didn't have egg-stains on it. He also, for once, didn't smell of vodka but had obviously borrowed some cologne from Lithuania.<p>

Vietnam, or Kim as she insisted they call her, was a revelation. Latvia could understand why the men of the household were entranced by her. She had beautiful long black glossy hair and sparkly brown eyes. Her laugh sounded like tinkling glass and she didn't wince away that much when Russia, with his usual problem of invading personal space, kept hugging her.

Lithuania, Latvia noted, was besotted with her. _He's such a such sucker for a pretty girl. I wonder what Poland would think of her, Belarus would hate her._

Russia kept blushing every-time the Asian addressed him and he kept smoothing down his unruly blond hair. Several times Latvia caught him trying to flatten his prominent nose.

* * *

><p>Latvia growled as she did the washing up and watched from the kitchen window as Russia was showing the Vietnamese woman around his garden, pointing out the sunflowers and roses. At one point, Kim put a hand on his arm and smiled up at him and the big Russian grinned happily and flushed red, stopping in his tracks with a silly dreamy look on his face whilst Kim walked on, one hand in her pocket, the other still holding a rice paddle.<p>

Latvia couldn't understand why she felt so annoyed. Vietnam hadn't said anything bad to her, had been very nice and courteous to her in fact. She'd shaken hands with all the Baltics and had enquired politely as to all their health.

It was Russia's and Lithuania's reactions that were annoying - particularly the former Nation. She was used to Lithuania swanning around with a dreamy look on his face when Belarus came to visit. But she wasn't used to Russia's icy demeanour being shattered this easily. Wasn't he supposed to be the big, tough Arctic Nation? She glared out of the window at Russia as he tap-danced around the garden, thinking no-one was watching him, before hurrying to catch up with Kim.

Latvia almost broke a glass in her hands as Russia swooped up to the smaller Asian girl and gently spun her around. Miss Vietnam playfully hit him with her paddle (which she carried for such purposes) and then obviously berated him and then, as Latvia watched, still frowning, asked him something serious.

Russia rubbed a hand through his hair and then took off, bounding in through the kitchen door, almost taking it off its hinges.

"Latvia, come and help me get some things!" he asked her.

Latvia threw the dishcloth in the water and was about to follow her boss when she saw Lithuania out of the corner of her eye, go into the garden and speak to Vietnam. The Asian Nation was looking up at the Lithuanian with bright brown eyes and smiling as Lithuania said something to her. Both looked as if nothing else mattered in the world.

Latvia frowned. She could smell trouble.

"Latviaaa!" she heard Russia shout, "Get here, now!"

She sighed and stomped after her boss' voice.

Russia was in the basement and Latvia hesitated before descending the cold steps.

"Sir?" she asked tremulously. She really, really did not want to go down there on her own. "Perhaps I should get Toris or Ed...?"

"Get down here, Raivis and help me with these," Russia insisted.

She sighed, looked back at the daylight streaming in through the hallway, and, making the sign of the cross, followed the voice.

Russia frowned at her, and shoved a pile of assorted firearms into her hands.

She almost buckled under the weight, "Sir?"

"Come on, Raivis, man up..." he said and shoved her back up the basement steps.

She stumbled and dropped some of the rifles but Russia shook his head, picked them up, and motioned her to follow him. "I need your help. Kim needs some armaments in her war and I said I would help her," he told her.

Latvia said nothing. _So that's her game, clever woman. Bat your eyelashes at Russia and get weapons out of him._

Russia blithely strode back to the garden. Lithuania was still there and hurriedly showing Vietnam the flowers that Latvia had planted.

Russia growled and shoved the Baltic out of the way and told him to "Get on with dinner..."

Lithuania nodded, smiled at Vietnam and ignored Latvia who was motioning to him that he'd better not be doing what she thought he was doing.

Then Russia had a better idea, "...Or erm... Miss... erm..." he stuttered and stammered, his face flushing bright red.

Latvia tried to pretend she wasn't there and started investigating her chewed fingernails.

Miss Vietnam smiled, but chewed her lip and looked nervous.

"Miss Vietnam..." Russia stammered.

Vietnam looked up and frowned, "Oh, Mr Russia, you can call me Kim. We are old friends aren't we?" she asked and over-emphasised the word 'friends' (or so it seemed to Latvia).

Russia smiled at this, "Call me Ivan," he told her and then more boldly added, "...No, call me Vanya!"

Latvia's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Vietnam also looked surprised but tried to disguise this and said smoothly, "Oh erm, Ivan... Vanya... I don't think..."

Russia even more emboldened at the use of his human name, finally stammered out, "We could go out for dinner!"

"Oh! All of us? That would be nice!" Vietnam said.

Russia frowned at this. This was certainly not what he intended, "Nyet, I mean, just you and me..."

Vietnam considered this and Latvia saw the hesitation and a hint of fear in the young Asian's brown eyes. "Erm, well... big brother China might not... I mean..."

"Yao won't know," Russia said simply. "I'll ring up the restaurant and book a table!" Russia said happily. _Finally, he thought, I'm going on a date! With a proper woman! And one who hasn't been sent by my Government to spy on me._

Latvia frowned as Russia handed her a Kalashnikov rifle and stomped off happily into the house with a big smile on his face.

She turned to Vietnam, holding the rifle in her hands and felt, bizarrely, like shooting the woman's head off. She had absolutely no idea why.

Vietnam wrinkled her beautiful brow and sighed, "Oh dear... I didn't mean to... Poor Mr Russia... You understand, don't you, Mr Latvia? I have to do what's right for my country?" she said, seeing Latvia's disapproving expression.

"It's got nothing to do with me," Latvia said resolutely.

She shut up quickly as Russia came bouncing back outside. He rubbed his hands together with glee, "Right? Where were we? Ah yes, Kalash's are good rifles, Kim..." he hesitated at using her human name and looked at her to see if he'd offended her. She just smiled at him, nervously.

Russia took the rifle from Latvia's hands and pulled back the locking mechanism, shoved a magazine of ammunition into it and slammed it shut. "They are very cheap and very reliable. We could give you... I don't know..." he frowned and looked at her, his head tilted on one side. He didn't think young girl Nations should be involved in warfare, it didn't seem right to him. But she was fighting the capitalist America so that made it slightly better. But it still didn't feel right. Surely, she would be much better taking refuge in his house where he could keep her safe. She would be a beautiful addition to his household, he thought.

Kim hesitated and took the rifle from him, "... 5,000 Kalashnikovs, 500 tanks, 5000 artillery guns, 1000 anti-aircraft guns and another 100 surface-to-air missiles..." she said hurriedly, mentally reading from the 'shopping list' her boss had made her memorise.

Russia considered this, "Da!" he said and then added, "I could come to your country as a military adviser and you can stay here with my Baltics and they will look after you..."

Latvia looked from Russia to Vietnam and back again and saw the panic on Vietnam's face.

"That's not necessary. Thank you, Mr Russia..."

Russia frowned at her use of his formal name.

"... I need to be with my country and fight... and... besides, if it does get really bad then I'll call you," Vietnam said hurriedly.

Russia shook his head, "Women should not fight on the front-line, Kim. It is not right. They should be at home..." he then blushed and said quietly, his cheeks flaring again, "... having babies." (It is unsure as to what his sisters or Hungary - all three being consummate fighters - would think of this statement.)

Latvia grunted at this and took the Kalashnikov out of Vietnam's hands impatiently, unlocked the magazine, shook it out, took the starting mechanism out, reloaded, took the safety catch off and slammed it back into service, all without looking and all the while glaring at Vietnam.

Vietnam ignored Russia's comments and picked up another rifle, examining this one closely, "Oh, is that a Nagant? I don't think I've ever used one?" she asked, trying to divert Russia's thoughts back onto small firearms and away from romance. She herself had seen more fighting in the last ten years than most of the Nations had seen in the last fifty.

Latvia took it from her, demonstrated the firing mechanism with an impatient air, loaded it, showed the Vietnamese woman how to line up the sight and then handed it back to her, all without saying a word.

Russia frowned. _Where on earth had innocent little Latvia learned how to do that?_

Vietnam took the rifle from Latvia, "Thanks, Mr Latvia," she smiled.

Latvia just grumbled and turned to her boss, "Can I go in now, Sir? I need to help Toris with dinner." Frankly, she was fed up of watching her boss moon over the small, beautiful Asian Nation.

Russia waved a hand at her, "Da, go in, Raivis..." but he frowned as he watched her small, slim figure head towards the house.

He shook his head as tattered memories nudged at his brain and for a minute... He then visibly shook himself as if to chase away a ghost.

"He seems nice," Vietnam ventured, also watching the young Baltic step into the kitchen. She also was frowning. If she wasn't mistaken, that _he_ was a _she_. But it wasn't for her to say anything.

Russia nodded, a little smile on his face, "He's my favourite little Baltic," he said fondly.

Vietnam looked up at the Russian's dreamy smile and couldn't help but smile herself. _He doesn't have a clue. How sweet... I wonder if I could...?_ She caught herself quickly. She wasn't here to play Cupid, she was here for arms donations, her country was relying on her and she couldn't afford to upset the big Russian. But she was also worried about his attentions towards her. China had warned her not to get too close to Russia; that he was dangerous and if she got involved with him, he would never let her go. She liked Russia, in fact he was one of her closest allies, but that's as far as it went. Now Lithuania...

* * *

><p>Latvia stood peeling potatoes with Lithuania. Toris kept checking his watch every five minutes and looking very agitated. Latvia had said nothing about the exchange in the garden, nothing about Russia's and Vietnam's dinner date and for the first time since arriving in Russia's house was at a loss at what to say to her fellow Baltic.<p>

Lithuania just about threw the meat and potatoes in the pot, switched on the stove and turned to Latvia, "Right, Raivis, you're in charge."

"Me?" Latvia squeaked.

"Yes, you. Take that off the burn in an hour and just serve it up. That's all you need to do. Nothing else. Even you can do that."

"But where will you be?"

"I... I have plans..."

Latvia opened her mouth to say something, but Lithuania shot off up the stairs and into the bathroom.

She sighed, wiped her hands and started stirring the pot. She had a horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Estonia walked in and did a double take when he saw that Latvia was the one cooking dinner.

"Raivis? Why are you... where's Toris?"

"He said he has plans," she answered.

"Really? Who with? Feliks?"

"I hope so," Latvia said.

Estonia frowned. He didn't like it when they had visitors. It threw the whole routine of the household out. Estonia liked everything to be orderly and neat. A routine was important to keep Russia's moods level. It was never a good thing to get him excited. Eduard had just left Russia's office where he'd spent the last hour with Russia and Vietnam finalising the arms deal between the two Nations. He hadn't been happy about Russia's joviality – it never ended well.

"Is Mr Russia really giving her a load of tanks and arms?" Latvia asked.

Estonia nodded and peered into the pot of stew – at least it didn't look burnt.

"I suppose you're making some money out of this as well?" she asked, quite astutely.

Estonia shook his head and said primly, "I don't make money about war, young lady. I have standards. Don't burn the dinner. We don't want the boss getting upset."

"He won't be eating it. He's taking _her_ out to some fancy restaurant," Latvia said bitterly.

Estonia frowned at this. Did he detect a note of jealousy in Latvia's voice? He shook his head, "I hope he remembers to fill in an expenses form," he said.

There was a yell from upstairs as they heard Russia pounding on the bathroom door, "Toris? Are you in there? Come on! Get a move on!"

"Just a few more minutes, sir!" came a yell back.

Latvia shook her head, still stirring the pot. Russia stomped into the kitchen, "Toris is hogging the bathroom," he told them. He then, quite startlingly, held up a series of ties and scarves and scratched his head. "Ed, you're a man of the world," he asked turning to Estonia, "Which one should I wear?"

Estonia swallowed, "Erm... I don't know... the red... no, the pink... I think erm..."

Russia frowned and then turned to Latvia and just raised an eyebrow.

Latvia didn't look and stirred the pot furiously and just said, tersely, "Red, sir."

Russia smiled happily, nodded, "I'll wear the blue one then," and trotted back upstairs to get ready for his 'date' - kick Toris out of the bathroom and get his cleanest shirt out.

* * *

><p>Three hours later...<p>

"She stood me up!" Russia was sat at a bar – 'Red Square' - with Latvia, downing his umpteenth vodka.

Latvia patted him on the shoulder, carefully and ordered another vodka.

"I think she only wanted me for a tank..." Russia slurred. He leaned against Latvia, who was stood at his side and looking at her watch.

She and Estonia had got a call from Russia two hours before asking them if Vietnam was there. Apparently, she'd told him she would meet him at the restaurant, after 'doing business' in the city. Russia had waited for her, eaten all the breadsticks, drank a bottle of vodka, before ringing home. Estonia had replied, saying that Vietnam had left two hours earlier. What he failed to tell Russia was that Lithuania had left at the same time.

Estonia was now trying, frantically to get hold of Toris, whilst Latvia had driven out to pick up Russia. She'd spent the last two hours propping him up at the bar.

"I'm sure it wasn't that..." Latvia said lamely, but gently patted his shoulder again.

"Am I really that bad, little Latvia? Do you think I scared her? Maybe Belarus has scared her?" Russia said, turning to Latvia with a little gleam in his eyes. He slopped the vodka on the bar.

"Is he okay?" the bartender asked Latvia.

Latvia nodded and then tried to pull her boss away, "Come on, Sir. Perhaps we should leave."

Russia stood and swayed, his eyes were bloodshot, "Oh well, she was way out of my league eh, Latvia?" he said sadly.

Latvia shook her head and said quietly, "No, Sir, you are way out of her league."

Russia wasn't listening because the bartender was shouting, "Phone call for an Ivan Braginski!"

"That's me!" Russia said and took the phone from the barman, "Who is it?"

"I don't know... do I look like your secretary?" the barman replied.

Russia looked him up and down. Actually, the man looked nothing like Estonia, he wasn't wearing glasses and he didn't have a briefcase, so Russia just said, "Nyet," and put the phone to his ear.

He smiled happily, "Kim! I knew you would phone and didn't forget me... I was waiting for you for ages. Yes, I'm at the Red...something..."

"Square," Latvia said with a sigh and crossed her arms.

Russia frowned and wondered why the little Baltic was looking so annoyed. He got the feeling that Latvia didn't like Vietnam. He had no idea why.

"...Oh... you're not..." Russia's face fell and he leaned heavily on the bar, and broke a piece off the edge absent-mindedly. "Why...?" he asked quietly.

Latvia sighed again and gently patted Russia on the arm. Unrequited love was horrid, she thought.

Russia shrugged her hand off and growled, "Toris!" he slammed the phone down.

Latvia jumped back from Russia's sudden looming presence.

"She ran away with Toris!"

Latvia had no idea what to say, just a feeble little "Oh..."

Russia grabbed the little Baltic by her shoulders, "Did you know about this, Raivis?" he said suddenly, swaying on his feet.

"No, Sir... honestly," she gasped.

Two men suddenly approached, "Hey, let go of her... you shouldn't beat up girls." One of them said – foolishly as it turned out.

Russia spun around and punched the man out. Before the other had chance to say anything, Russia punched him out too, "So I beat up you instead?" he said, his aura blazing.

Latvia stepped back, frightened, "S...S...Sir? We should go home now? I mean..."

Russia nodded, pulling her after him roughly.

* * *

><p>Estonia stepped back hurriedly as Russia stormed into the house, Latvia hurrying in his wake.<p>

"What's going on?" he whispered to her urgently.

"_She_ rang him and told him she'd run away with Toris," Latvia whispered back.

"Shit," Estonia rubbed his head. He rarely swore, but he felt that this time it was justified. What on earth was Toris thinking?

"Precisely," Latvia hissed back, "Toris is dead meat... what are we going to do?"

"He rang here... he's at Poland's house... But I don't think Vietnam was with him..." Estonia whispered softly.

But not softly enough. Russia loomed up behind them, a vodka bottle in one hand, Mr Pipe in the other.

"They are at Polska's?"

"Sir... I think perhaps..." Latvia ran out of things to say.

"Maybe Miss Vietnam forgot about your dinner date and had to do some business with Poland?" Estonia stammered.

Russia waved his pipe around, the two Baltics ducked. "With Toris?" he said and then picked Estonia up by the scruff of the neck, "You will ring Toris and tell him to get his charming face back here so I can smash it in..."

Estonia was nodding hurriedly.

"... and also tell Miss Vietnam that I am going to tell her big brother China that she was here, begging me for armaments. You can also tell her that the deal is off..." Russia stormed and let Estonia go.

Russia stomped into the kitchen and resumed his drinking.

There was a hushed, hurried conversation into the telephone. Latvia could only hear Estonia's side. "No... Toris you have to... Yes, well... She did? China said that? Poland said... yes, well he's right - you do fall in love too easily... Get a grip. Right, so what about me and Raivis?" Estonia glanced around at Latvia's wide, frightened eyes.

If Toris came home, the Lithuanian would likely be pummelled into the ground, if he didn't come home, they would be pummelled into the ground. Estonia did not want to be pummelled into the ground and he didn't want anyone else to be pummelled into the ground. "Raivis," he whispered, "Go up to your room and stay there."

Latvia turned to go but walked straight into Russia's chest instead. He caught her in a strong grasp, his now rumpled shirt was vodka and sweat-stained, his scarf was askew. "Toris is not coming home?" he slurred, swaying slightly.

"Sir..." Estonia racked his brain to think up a way out of this awful situation.

Latvia was held in Russia's arms, shivering and shaking. She tried to inch away, but he held her tightly.

"Sir, Miss Vietnam panicked and went to Poland's house with Toris because apparently Mr China had told her if she was involved with you then the arms deal she had with him would be off," Estonia said, all in one big rush - it was the best he could come up with. It was partly true. The fact that Toris and Vietnam had attempted to 'elope' and then had second thoughts when arriving at Poland's house was nearer the truth. Poland had made his feelings clear on the viability of a Lithuanian-Vietnam alliance and Vietnam had then caught a flight home, along with the signed arms contract safely tucked in her bra. And now Toris was too afraid to return home..

"What does this have to do with Toris? Why did she go with Toris?" Russia growled, his aura blazed purple. He knew China was also arming Vietnam as well.

"Well..." Estonia struggled to speak, "Toris was worried about her and just thought he was helping..." he finished lamely.

Russia pulled Latvia along with him to the telephone, grabbed the receiver and snarled into it, "Toris... if you don't come home now, this instant, little Raivis is going to get hurt very badly..."

Latvia squealed and struggled against him. He held her tight against his chest with one arm and heard 'Polska' at the other end of the receiver telling Toris to 'put the telephone down, that he knew all along that Vietnam was a bad influence and that Braginski would not hurt his Baltics.'

Russia pulled Raivis more solidly against his chest, bent down and whispered in her ear, "Scream, little Latvia, scream as if your life depends on it."

Latvia frowned and then screamed ear-piercingly as Russia found her ticklish spot just under her ribs and tickled her mercilessly.

"Aaaaaaargh, Sir... please don't..."

Estonia was about to intervene when Latvia sank to her knees, gripping her sides, tears streaming down her face, half sobbing and half laughing.

Russia gently patted her head and bent down again, leaving the receiver dangling mid-air. He whispered in her ear, "Scream again and shout that I'm hitting you," he said.

Latvia looked up, confused and looked to Estonia for some kind of help. Estonia backed off and took off into the kitchen.

'Typical,' Latvia thought, 'I bet he's gone to make tea.'

They heard Toris shouting down the phone, "Noooo! Latviaaaaa!" he yelled. "Please, Sir... don't hurt him..."

Russia nodded at Latvia so she screamed again, "Please, Sir... Don't hit me..."

"You scream like a girl," Russia said wonderingly.

He frowned and looked her up and down. If the little Baltic hadn't been so good at punching Gilbert when the Prussian had lived with them, handling weapons and hadn't had so many sleepovers with Sealand he would have sworn... He brushed that thought away, what a stupid idea... of course Latvia was a boy. He was just drunk, that's what it was.

He was about to tickle the Latvian again when she stumbled backwards and screamed, "Nooo, Sir... Get off me."

"You can stop now, Raivis... stop screaming..." Russia said much concerned. He wasn't even touching the little Baltic and he backed away hurriedly.

Russia then turned round to see Estonia holding a Kalashnikov rifle and pointing it at him.

"Estonia? What are you doing?" Russia asked, cocking his head on one side very puzzled. It was strange in the extreme to see his geekiest Baltic holding any kind of weapon.

Estonia hadn't handled a firearm since the 2nd World War and only then very sporadically, his aim was very bad and he'd once shot himself in the foot. He said, his voice quavering, "Sir, if you hurt him, I will shoot you..."

Russia frowned, "How?" he asked. It was a reasonable question – Russia could see there was no ammunition in the weapon and the safety catch was on.

Estonia didn't expect this answer and for a moment was completely flummoxed. The first time in over forty years he'd actually stood up to his boss and ... this was the result...

Latvia got to her feet, impatiently took the rifle from Eduard's hands and took off the safety catch. She rummaged around in her pockets, found a spare magazine, loaded it and gave it him back.

"Oh!" Estonia said.

All the while Lithuania was yelling down the telephone: "I'm coming home... Don't hurt him... If you want to hit someone, hit me. He's done nothing... He's just a boy!"

Estonia, feeling very manly now he had a loaded Kalashnikov rifle in his hands, swaggered to the telephone, "Just come home, Toris. Everything is under control... I'm in charge..." He stopped as Russia raised an eyebrow questioningly, "Well... I'm not... but... everything will be okay..."

"You won't hurt him, will you Sir? It's not his fault. I think Miss Vietnam just used you both... and Mr China..." Latvia asked pleadingly.

Russia looked at Estonia – the sight of his geeky, bespectacled subordinate holding a 'Kalash', aimed at him, no less – was something he thought he'd never get over. Perhaps he'd drunk more vodka than he'd thought. Also, where on earth had little, innocent, mild-mannered Latvia learnt to handle guns like that?

Russia shook his head and turned to Latvia and said quietly, "I don't hurt little Nations... I'm not a monster... Tell Toris to just come home..."

He turned sadly and mounted the stairs to bed, rubbing his blond head. _What had he been thinking? There was no way a girl like that would go with a man like him... what would have happened when she saw his scars? He sighed heavily. He didn't want to hurt Toris. He'd hurt Toris too many times in the past... a long time ago now but he didn't want to go back to those awful years... He loved his Baltics, they were his lifeline, they were his friends and he dreaded the day they would leave..._

* * *

><p>The next day<p>

Russia was sat at the kitchen table holding his head. He was sure it was about to come off in his hands (his head, not the table). Latvia had served up coffee and a cake she'd made – but it had the appearance of a pancake with a hole in the middle. Russia held a slice up with two fingers. He really needed to get Lithuania back.

The doorbell rang and Russia groaned, "Get that, Tor... oh, Estonia..."

When Estonia answered the door, he found standing on the doorstep a motley assortment of people – Poland's 'Rainbow Army' – surrounding a shaking Toris. Ukraine, Poland (gripping Lithuania's hand), and a full contingent of Nordics (Norway and Iceland looking as if they didn't really want to be there, Sealand looking wide-eyed, Denmark was drunk, Sweden looked stern and Finland looked cheerful). Poland had decided that if Lithuania had to go back to Braginski, then for safety reasons, he would call in a posse of bodyguards.

Katya pushed inside the house, "Vanya!" she called, "If you've hurt little Latvia..." she didn't get to finish.

Russia came out of the kitchen, his hangover still making his head feel as if it were about to explode or implode, he was unsure which, and pushed past her, shoving 'Polska' out of the way and hugging Toris, "Toris! I'm glad you're back... I miss your hangover cure..."

Toris struggled in the Russian's huge bear hug, "It's just aspirin, lemon juice and a shot of vodka, Sir," he gasped.

Finland harrumphed, "Mr Russia... if you hurt Lithuania, smash his face in or otherwise damage him in any way... If you have hurt Latvia or Estonia... Then Santa will not pay you a visit this year..."

Russia was appalled, "I haven't hurt anybody... I would never hurt my Baltics... Why do you say such things about me?"

Estonia ushered them all in, "We're fine, honestly. Latvia is fine, I'm fine..." he turned to Finland and whispered to one of his oldest friends, "I held a rifle to Mr Russia's head..."

Finland frowned at this. In all his years under Russia's rule, he had never felt the need to defend himself. He'd got on really well with Russia. However, he had found that Russia's enthusiasm at Christmas was sometimes too exuberant and he'd had to tell Ivan that he couldn't come with him in the sleigh.

Latvia served them all (burnt) stew and dumplings. Someone asked if England had been, but was silenced by a growl from Russia. He was just happy that everything was back to 'normal'. He had his eldest Baltic back who would bake nice cookies and cook nice food. He just felt slightly sorry for Toris - unrequited love was a painful thing, he thought.

**Author's Note:**

**The Vietnam War lasted between 1955 to 1975 between the Soviet Union and China backed communist North and the US backed South. Although in this fic I've got Vietnam seeking arms from Russia – the Soviets did donate a lot of arms to the North (as did China) and I've written this Vietnam as the 'North' in my head I didn't want to get into the politics of the Vietnam War but I can imagine Vietnam, like all the female Nations, being quite a savvy woman who knows how to charm the male Nations...**

**Obviously, I have no idea how to load/re-load a rifle, Kalashnikov or otherwise, I made that up. But I'm assuming Latvia would know.**

**In 1968 after the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia, China (after souring of relations with Russia) insisted that North Vietnam sever ties with the Soviet Union, N. Vietnam refused. So I reckon Vietnam was playing a dangerous game – juggling Russia and China (at least this communist Vietnam), the South Vietnam was American backed – I wondered whether to have twins actually... but that would make it complicated so have left it open.**

**PS I hate being tickled and scream like a banshee if anyone so much as moves to touch my toes...**

**Reviews are welcome.**

**Next chapter – may contain a liberal dosage of England and Scotland, a visit to the psychiatrists and 'Big Ivan'. Plot bunnies are welcome.**


	17. Atomic

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**A/N: Just to clear things up, the lady mentioned briefly in Chapter 13 was Mother Russia.**

**Please note it might appear that there are typographical errors in this chapter – they're not – it's merely Scotland's accent and England's drunkenness.**

**Warnings: Swearing, crack and angst and images that you may never unsee... Long chapter (but a lot of it is author's notes/references which you don't have to read)**

**Setting: Leningrad, 1961 (October 30th to be exact)**

Chapter 17 - Atomic

It had been a fairly quiet morning for the Baltics, no-one had called, Lithuania had been baking bread, Latvia was dreamily doing the laundry, whilst Estonia was in Russia's study tackling a pile of filing.

Russia himself was strolling up and down the huge house, occasionally popping his blond head around a door and watching his Baltics going about their work. Russi-cat padded after him. The Siberian cat didn't seem to want to leave him that morning and was at the Russian's heels at every turn. Normally it was Latvia that the big cat followed but not today, it hadn't left Russia's side since the large Nation had risen early that morning.

Russia padded up and down, up and down. He knew it was today, his boss had 'kindly' warned him. Russia had been given no choice in the matter. Clearly, it wasn't for him to say what happened on his land, but the Strategic Rocket Forces Commander had told him that no-one would be hurt and damage to the ground would be 'limited'. Russia did not believe them. He'd been deceived too often by his bosses – past and present.

They'd asked if he wanted to watch the 'demonstration', Mr Khruschev himself had rang him the night before and told him that 'this will show them – those enemies of Russia – a demonstration of how strong we really are'. Russia had just sighed, he would have much preferred an arm-wrestling match with America. Why did it always involve huge weapons? These deadly toys which poisoned the earth, his soil and threatened the lives of so many. So guns were not enough now, they had to create weapons to kill millions at a time. Russia sighed again as he padded up and down the hallway, counting the minutes down, humans would never learn.

He glanced at his watch again, padded back upstairs, glanced in his bedroom to see Latvia stripping his bed, the small figure lugging the heavy blankets off, singing some tuneless Western pop music that the boy had no doubt gotten off Sealand or Finland. He then padded back downstairs, checked on Lithuania, who was checking the oven. Russia really hoped his eldest Baltic was making cookies, he had a feeling he was really going to need them later. Estonia was in the study, Russia found, his glasses askew on his face as he examined papers and put them in folders.

Russia glanced at his watch again, feeling his stomach heave a little with anticipation and set off outside into the garden. Would it be easier if he were outside? Lying on the damp earth? When Tunguska had happened he'd been in bed and the shockwave travelling from Siberia had knocked him clean onto the floor. He'd spent the next few days almost unable to move and full of pain. For years after he'd been convinced it had been a huge earthquake or volcanic eruption in Siberia. _But I was much weaker then. The uprising in 1905 weakened me... so many died... I'm stronger now... I can absorb this... I can take this..._

* * *

><p>Latvia was singing the latest Elvis Presley hit whilst she stripped the sheets from Russia's huge king-size bed. She wasn't sure about this new rock and roll music that Sealand had introduced her to. But as he seemed to be far more 'with it' than her, she just took his word for it.<p>

She gathered up the sheets, extricated the five empty vodka bottles that she'd found under the pillows and entangled in the bed linen, and was about to stagger downstairs. Two things made her stop. She looked out of the window – the blood-red curtains were open for a change – and looked out onto the garden to see Russia lying on his back in the grass, smoking a cigarette. Nothing should really surprise her about her boss' activities any more. And then a most ominous rumbling from the wardrobe and the floor gave a roll and a tremor. Latvia dropped her burden and ran downstairs.

"Toris! Are we having an earthquake?"

Lithuania put his head to one side and considered, he'd also felt a very light tremor and then... nothing. "I don't think so... we don't have earthquakes here in Leningrad," he told her. "This is one of the most stable regions on earth. They get in them in Kamchatka and eastern Siberia... perhaps Mr Russia has wind again?" he concluded.

Latvia was about to say something when there was a rumble and a crash from upstairs.

Lithuania handed his oven gloves to Latvia told her to 'keep an eye on his muffins' (whatever that meant) and went upstairs.

* * *

><p>Stumbling out of Russia's huge wardrobe was two very crumpled and tatty looking individuals.<p>

"Mr. England, Mr. Scotland... what are you doing in Mr Russia's bedroom?" Lithuania asked, looking the two nations up and down. England, clad in a large black rumpled cloak, clung to Scotland for dear life whilst the latter had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and was wearing an ill-fitting kilt that unfortunately showed off more than Lithuania would have liked to see.

"Ish thish Narnia?" England asked.

"Ach man, ye cannae even do a summonin' spell right!" Scotland shouted at England. "Tha's a pathetic excuse fer a nation. Ah'd replace ye but ah dinnae wan' ta go ta England. It's full o' bloody Sassenach's, and ah'm Scottish ah am. Me 'art beats only fer the highlands."

"Er... what?" Lithuania had to lean in closer to the Scotsman to understand what he'd said, and even then, it was still pretty much unintelligible.

"Demon shummoning shpell didn't work?" England slurred.

"Of course it didnae work yer bloody fool!" Scotland hissed back.

Where's my conolies? Er I mean collies? Condolies? Cololies?" England slurred drunkenly.

"They left ye, and I cannae blame them." Scotland replied bluntly.

At this point, Latvia decided to go and see what all the noise upstairs was about. "I heard a loud crash, is everything alright?" She asked.

"It's a wee girlie!" Scotland yelled, pointing at Latvia.

"Wut? I mean what?" Lithuania fained ignorance. "Sh- I mean he isn't a girl!"

"Ach, yer wee jessie, ah noo a lassie when ah see one. Ah was quite a one in mah day, ah yes. Me and Francis, we used ta goo ta brothels in Paris and-"

"Nobody needs to know!" Latvia said angrily. That was already too much information without knowing the details about what they actually did. And if it involved _France _of all people, it certainly couldn't be good.

"Aye, definitely a girlie. Ye might 'ave this lot fooled, but ye cannae fool a Scotsman!" Hamish said dramatically, before being backed against a wall.

"Alright. I am a girl, but only Estonia and Lithuania know that. Your bloody idiot brother isn't supposed to know, and neither is Mr. Russia. And if you tell them I will tell Miss Katya that you have been bothering me and I am sure that she will be a lot rougher with you than I have been." Latvia hissed, pressing Hamish against the wall and grabbing his hands by the wrists when he struggled.

"Ach man, noo need ta tell Miss Ukraine, is thur? We're all friends, ere, ain't we? Can ye let goo of me hair, _laddie_?" Scotland made sure to emphasize the word 'laddie', and Latvia realized she had grabbed a chunk of Scotland's fiery hair in the struggle.

"Whatever." Latvia replied, freeing Scotland – but not before she stole his cigarette and stubbed it out.

"Ach, ah need me cigs!" Scotland protested.

"Yes, but I think Mr. Russia will notice if you set his house on fire."

"Aye, yer probably reight. Where's that laddie gone, that wee jessie? Toris. 'E looks like he's got a brain between 'is ears, maybe he can get us back." Scotland looked around, but Toris had left to find Estonia.

"Where am I?" England slurred, attempting to lean on Hamish again but as Hamish had moved he just fell to the ground and giggled.

"Yer in Russia's oose, man. Ach, this wouldnae 'appen in Scotland. Bloody summoning spell backfired, dinnit? Ah told ye ya shouldnae use eye o' newt, but did ye listen? Noo." He turned to Latvia. "Ah told 'im. Ah said, 'Arthur, yer wee Sassenach, thur are two things ye should nivver do. First o' all, ye should nivver eat mentos an' then drink coke. If ye do that, ye'll throw up an' it will nae be pretty.' An then ah told him 'ach, and ye shouldnae use eye o' newt in yon summonin' spells. If ye do that it'll all go bad'. Ah told 'im all this when he was just a wee laddie, but did 'e bloody well listen?"

"Um..." Latvia mumbled, willing Toris to get back up there ASAP so she wouldn't have to deal with this nutter all on her own.

"Bloody no! He dinnae listen to anythin' ah say, ever!" Hamish looked disgustedly at Arthur, who was now eyeing up Russia's spare vodka stash. "An then t' drunken idiot bloody wonders why everyone's left 'im."

"Don't you leave me too, Hamish!" England suddenly said, clinging to Scotland's foot. "You've always secretly been my favourite broother... brother..."

"Yer lyin' man! Ye've always preferred Bryn, ah noo ye ave."

"Brn?" Latvia asked. She wasn't sure if she knew a Bryn.

"Wales," Scotland answered. "Anyway, ah noo ye 'ate me. Ye 'ad old Willy killed, didn't ye?"

"Noo... I mean no, King Eddie did. Hehe, I liked Eddie. But I didn't have anythin' to do with it." Arthur replied, still clinging to Scotland's leg. "Anyway, I know we've 'ad our conflits... conflids... er... conflicts... but you're my big brother and I love you." At this point England hugged Scotland's leg, much to the disgust of the latter nation.

Scotland's eyes widened. "Arthur, lad, what've ye been drinkin'?" He asked.

"Hehe... wine."

"Oh, bloody hell..." Scotland muttered, running one hand through his fiery red hair as the other attempted to push the Englishman off his leg.

"What?" Latvia asked warily.

"Wine makes the old bugger sentimental. Bloody 'ell. Ye see, this is why ah told Frenchie ter only give 'im beer. At least then ye know where ye are wi' 'im."

Latvia sighed and checked her watch. Toris had been downstairs a while. What on earth was he doing?

* * *

><p>"Sir, perhaps you should get up now?" Lithuania was saying to Russia's prone form. He was worried, he really was.<p>

Russia was laid on the damp grass, his fingers clutching the cold wet soil as if he were afraid that if he let go he would fly off. The large Nation felt another tremor run through his back and he closed his eyes, fighting off the nausea. He hated this. It was so much worse than Tunguska. He could feel the shockwaves pass and radiate out from the north of his country down and through masses of the Urals and down through the rolling steppes. He spread out his arms, feeling as if he could reach his right arm all the way to the Far East and the port of Vladivostok at one end and his left to Kaliningrad, embracing the Baltics as he did so. His eyes popped open and he saw Lithuania looking down at him with worry evident in his eyes.

Russia hurriedly stood up and brushed the soil from his hands. He lurched a little and straightened as if he were on a ship on the ocean.

"Sir? Hmm... do you want a muffin?" Lithuania asked hesitantly. He tried not to look worried, but couldn't help it. Showing any kind of pity or worry towards Russia could result in serious punishment. Strength and power meant everything to his boss, and if he thought for one minute that Lithuania was feeling sorry for him then the reaction would not be good.

Russia nodded slowly, but as he followed Lithuania into the kitchen he swayed and faltered.

"Toris! Toris! How are we going to..." Latvia was about to say "... get those two idiotic, drunken Nations out of the house and back home," when she halted in her tracks at the sight of Russia. He was pale and trembling, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

"Are you okay, Sir?" she asked.

Russia glared at her, a purple haze starting to shimmer around his shoulders, "Why shouldn't I be?" he growled dangerously.

Latvia shrugged. She didn't have time to think about what was wrong with her boss, she was largely worried about the two goons upstairs.

Lithuania shook his head at her, took a hot, freshly-baked muffin out of the oven, placed it on a plate, poured a coffee – adding a liberal dose of vodka to it – and handed this to Russia, who had sat down with a 'whump'.

Upstairs there was another crash and Latvia and Lithuania shared a horrified glance.

Russia looked up, as he shoved half the muffin in his mouth, "What's going on?" he mumbled. His whole body ached and his eyes were smarting, but he was determined not to show the Baltics any weakness.

"Nothing, Sir... just Estonia dropping some paper," Latvia said hurriedly.

Estonia wandered in, rubbing his head, "What was that noise?"

Latvia and Lithuania hustled him out and shut the kitchen door, "England and Scotland are upstairs, they magicked themselves here..." they told him.

"We have to get them out..."

"... without the boss knowing..."

"Come on, Hamish... we have to rescue thish land from the wicked White Wish... Witch..." came a voice that was clearly coming down the stairs.

Latvia ran up to greet the drunken English Nation who was staggering down the stairs, his older brother trying to pull him back.

"Noooo, Arthur, yer big eejit, yer gooin ter get us killed by the big commie... Aye aye, wee lassie... I mean er..." here Scotland stopped dead as Latvia grabbed him by the throat.

"Stop calling me a lassie!" she growled at him.

There was an ominous groan and a growl emanating from the kitchen.

"Ish that... Ashlan?" England asked, wide-eyed.

"Wut, I mean, er... what?" Latvia asked.

"He thinks we're in bloody Narnia... Arthur pull yerself together man... we're in bloody Russia, man. And we're going to get bloody killed..."

There was a slam as the kitchen door flew open and Russia himself framed the doorway, "What's going on?" he asked.

He'd heard the crashes and bangs and the way his body was feeling – ultra-sensitive from absorbing the awful shockwave that was still vibrating through his land – he didn't want any annoyances, noise or disturbances. "Any more noise and I will pound someone's head... anybody's head into a wall, da?" he said, only looking at the nearest person to him – Lithuania - and slammed back into the kitchen, nursing his bottle of vodka.

The five Nations, who had all frozen in place, relaxed – Russia in his pain and discomfort hadn't noticed the two small intruders.

England had pulled his tatty cloak around him and was pointing at the space where Russia had been. "Ashlan... Aslan!" he said again, his eyes shining with wonder and was promptly shoved back up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"How did you get here?" Estonia asked the two British Nations as all five Nations stood in Russia's bedroom.<p>

"Wardrobe," Scotland said. Known for his abruptness, he was angry now, he was fed up and he'd not had his irn bru. Plus the wee lassie, or laddie as he hurriedly, mentally corrected, kept glaring at him.

"That's not an answer!" Latvia protested.

"It ish... we came through the wardrobe... wheresh the lamposht? Where'sh Mr Tumnus?"

"What is he on about?" Latvia asked.

"He thinks he's in Narnia."

"Is that one of the Soviet Republics, Ed? Like us?" Latvia asked her older Baltic, innocently.

"Never mind where he thinks he is, we need to get them back where they came from," Lithuania said, "Before the boss sees them."

* * *

><p>It was unsure as to who decided to put them back in the wardrobe. Estonia, being the cleverest, was shaking his head. Besides the telephone was ringing downstairs so he left them to it. Whoever's idea it was, it didn't work.<p>

"Get off ma foot, man!" Scotland yelled at England.

"I shay, hic... I wonder where the fur coats are?" England said, clearly still on some kind of drugs trip.

"We're not in bloody Narnia! Do your spell again, Arthur and get us back to your bloody hoose in London!"

"Hic, but Peter, Sushan, Edmund and Looshie might need my help!"

"Yer a bloody idiot, Arthur. Do the bloody shpell, I mean er spell..."

"Hockety pockety wockety wack, Abra, cabra, dabra, nack!" came the salubrious voice of England from inside the wardrobe.

Something did happen in fact. The large heavy oak wardrobe started to glow and rose almost three feet off the floor.

Latvia, who had always thought England's magic was a load of rubbish, stepped back in amazement, as did Lithuania. Anything could happen now, Toris thought. A herd of elephants could emerge direct from the African Savannah, they could all be transported along with England and his mad brother to the wrong side of Europe and try explaining _that _to Russia or even worse, France could be summoned.

As it happened, England's magic must have been affected by his liberal dose of wine and no Nation or wild African mammals came out of the wardrobe doors.

Only a red-haired, red-faced Scottish man who was singularly pissed off. He told them so, just to punctuate the fact, "I'm proper pissed off!" he told them.

And rightly so, the Scotsman was no longer wearing his kilt and tartan jacket, unfortunately. If Latvia and Lithuania had thought his previous attire was bad, this was so much worse. For some unknown reason he was now wearing a pink leotard and tutu.

England shortly followed him, falling out of the wardrobe with a Panda costume wrapped around his head. "Well, that went well!" England announced.

Scotland did not agree, "I'm going to fookin' kill you, Arthur!" he yelled.

Before Latvia and Lithuania could stop them, the two British Nations were chasing each other round and round Russia's bedroom.

"Why are you wearing that?" Latvia asked. She couldn't imagine Russia's wardrobe containing pink leotards and tutus. The panda costume, she'd seen before.

"Do I look like a poof? Do I look like someone who goos aroond wearing pink?" Scotland yelled at her. He then turned to England, who had collapsed on Russia's bed, giggling and hugging his wand and trying to put the Panda's head on. "Fookin' idiot brother's magic, that's what!"

"That's what you say!" Latvia said.

They heard a rumble coming up the stairs, "Toris! Raivis! What is that noise?" Russia growled.

"Dear Lord!" Arthur said, having got the panda head on, he was now trying to get it back off... plus he was also starting to sober up. "Bloody thing's stuck..."

Latvia and Lithuania looked at each other in horror as the doorknob started to turn and they grabbed the pink-clad Scotsman and the Panda-headed Englishman and shoved them under the bed.

* * *

><p>Estonia had left the bedroom just as England and Scotland were stumbling into the wardrobe. Nothing can come of this, he thought. He went downstairs and answered the telephone just as Russia was bellowing from the kitchen, like an angry bull for someone 'to stop that telephone ringing before I cram it into someone's skull, da?'<p>

There followed a series of telephone calls, with the telephone hardly stopping ringing. Estonia, not daring to leave the device in case it was his skull that would become its ultimate resting place, dragged a chair across to the telephone table and sat down to relay the messages to Russia.

"Mr Khruschev says it went very well and in your honour they named it Big Ivan with the codename Vanya, Sir!" Estonia called to Russia who was slowly but surely getting quietly drunk in the kitchen.

"Tell him to fuck off," Russia answered.

"Spasiba, Comrade Secretary. Mr Russia says he is deeply honoured," Estonia said, ever the diplomat and hung up.

The phone rang again only once, before Estonia snatched it up.

"Privet? Hello, Finland... oh there was? Windows, you say? Blown out? I'm so sorry, Mr Russia says he is very sorry... your government is not happy..." Estonia spoke rapidly into the receiver

"Is that Tino?" Russia asked from inside the kitchen.

"Da, Sir."

"Tell him also to fuck off," Russia said and continued to drain his bottle of vodka. He hated this life, he thought. He hated being a Nation. He hated having to do what his boss told him to do. He hated being hated by the other Nations.

"We apologise most sincerely and I'm sure you will be compensated. Yes, tell Mr Norway the same, thank you and goodbye... oh and Tino? Is that poker game still on for next Saturday?"

As Estonia replaced the receiver, glad that it wasn't Sweden who had called – who could be very obtuse and even more so on the telephone so that in fact you ended up talking to yourself – the phone rang again. Before Russia could even open his mouth – which was actually stuffed with yet another chocolate muffin and vodka, Estonia scooped it up (the receiver that is, not Russia's muffin or vodka).

"Privet. You have reached the Braginski household."

"Yo! Who's that?"

"Eduard... Mr Amerika, is that you?"

"Yo, Westonia, my main man! How's it hanging?"

Estonia winced, unsure as to how to answer to this, what was hanging and where? "Erm, I'm unsure as to what you mean, Mr Amerika," he answered, to be on the safe side.

"Dude! Is your dude there?"

"My dude?" Estonia frowned. It was usually Lithuania who was 'volunteered' to converse with America. No-one else in the house could understand the enthusiastic Americanisms that emanated from Alfred's huge mouth.

"Yep, man! Is fat commie dude there?"

Estonia winced and hoped to God that Russia, in his current foul mood, had not heard that particular garb at his waistline. By pure luck - the only luck the Baltics had that day, Russia hadn't heard - he was heading upstairs to his bedroom to see what the noise was.

"Erm, yes, but he can't come to the phone at the moment. What's the problem?"

"Problem, man? Yo... my dudes over here told me to ring your dude over there. The men in black have just heard over the wire that a huge badass bomb was dropped on your badass ass. CIA are calling it Joe 111 dude."

"Joe 111?" Estonia had no idea what on earth America was talking about – he deduced that somehow or other he was talking about the test bomb that the Soviet Government had detonated but beyond that...

"Hell yeah, man. It was totally totalled, man. And then my dude Kennedy says that he was going to go and tell your dude's dude..."

Here, Estonia zoned out, he caught the odd words through the receiver, which he no longer had to hold to his ear (in fact it was better if he didn't, such was the volume), words such as: 'Justice', 'Eagle', 'Victory' and more weirdly, 'Telstar', 'Operation Paperclip' and 'Marilyn Monroe'. Estonia reckoned the last three were direct threats against the Soviet Union, but decided that the ever-listening KGB would pick them up and decipher them from the other nonsense the American was spouting. Estonia left the receiver hanging, the American still talking and went to make coffee and hoped Russia hadn't discovered England and Scotland hiding in his wardrobe. As there were no 'kolkols', yet, then he assumed he hadn't.

* * *

><p>Upstairs in the bedroom, Russia swayed in the doorway and narrowed his eyes. Why was Lithuania and Latvia stood by his bed – which was still unmade – and looking guilty (the two Nations were looking guilty, not the bed).<p>

"Are you enticing Latvia into the dark side of gayism, Toris?" Russia asked.

Toris frowned. 'Gayism' was a strange term, he thought, for what he assumed Russia meant by homosexuality. "I'm sorry, Sir, I don't know what you mean?" he said. Latvia stood next to him, shaking, partly from fear and partly from wanting – from nerves – to laugh out loud.

Here was a situation she never thought she would end up in – being accused of being 'enticed' into homosexuality with a man she thought of as her brother. She started giggling uncontrollably and felt someone tweak her foot. It was meant to shut her up. Instead it made her giggle even more.

Russia didn't think it was funny. But then he didn't think anything was very funny today. Having a 50 megaton bomb dropped on your head (not quite literally but geographically) did nothing to aid his sense of humour. "It is not funny, Mr Latvia. You will never have children if you are gay with Lithuania," he said.

"You make it sound like a hobby, Sir?" Lithuania said and then added, "As if I'm only gay at the weekends."

Russia ignored this and glared at Latvia who was giggling and kicking her foot under the bed.

"Polska is a very bad influence. I know you and Polska are gay at the weekends," Russia said weirdly.

Latvia was still trying to kick Scotland under the bed, and she was about to open her mouth and ask about Russia's relationship with Mr China, when Lithuania shushed her.

Russia swayed again, motioned to the un-made bed and said, "Get my bed made up, stop messing about and get my lunch ready." He then turned and ambled out, feeling that he should have admonished little Latvia but his head was aching and he couldn't really be bothered.

Scotland clambered out from under the bed and rubbed his head, "Ach yer wee lass... laddie, yer nearly kicked ma brains oot!"

"Shut up! Why were you tickling my foot you idiot Scotsman?"

"I wasnae..."

"Abracadabra... bloody hell, magic won't bloody work... I bet it's because I'm in Russia. This is a Godforsaken country... My word, Toris, how do you manage it here? I mean, really?"

"You can shut up as well, Mr England. Russia's not that bad. It's better than England – it's always raining there!"

"And how the bloody hell would you know eh, Mr Latvia? Cheeky little so and so."

"It's always raining and foggy in the films isn't it, Toris?"

Lithuania finally lost his temper, "Everyone stop arguing and shut up!"

There was silence, apart from England's muttered, "I say!"

Scotland picked at his pink tutu quietly, whilst England threw the Panda head on the bed and crossed his arms.

"I know who can get you out of here. Just everyone shut up, be quiet. If Mr Russia comes back in, hide under the bed..." Lithuania told them.

"We can't stay here all night... that's just preposterous!" England said. His head was aching as if it was going to fall off, but at least he had sobered up. He now wished he hadn't. "Are you expecting us to sleep under Russia's bed all bloody night?"

Latvia started giggling again and was nudged in the ribs by a pink leotarded Scotsman.

"No, but I expect you to do exactly as I say..." Lithuania said and realised as he said this that the two British Nations were going to find this very difficult.

He left the room just as England started remonstrating again.

Russia's comment about his 'gayness' had given Toris an idea. He headed downstairs to make a phone call.

* * *

><p>"... And you should take responsibility for your bombs!" came the voice down the abandoned receiver.<p>

Toris was outraged, "I do take responsibility for my... wait? What bombs? I don't have any bombs?"

"Ha! Denying the existence of them, are you?"

"Yes, I am... I don't have any bombs!"

"You're just an evil dude empire who cares about nobody."

Toris was having none of this, "Go to hell!" he actually yelled at the impertinence of it and slammed the receiver down. It was only afterwards, much later that he thought he recognised the voice as being Alfred's and that perhaps Alfred may have been talking to someone else. He shrugged and started dialling and waited patiently for the other side to pick up, finally they did.

"Hallo!" a bored voice answered.

"Pol! How are you? I need your help..."

"Liet, sweetie. I'm on my way. I've got my rescue kit all handy, visas, disguises, we could be on a flight to Hawaii in no time and then you're away from that big nasty brute, Braginski."

"No, Pol, listen. It's someone else who needs the rescue kit... but not to Hawaii..."

"Not to Hawaii? Ooooh... okay. Anything for you, sweetie. Come on tell me everything."

Toris, carefully, using the code they'd devised many years ago to deceive the listening KGB, which mainly meant they used a mixture of Lithuanian and Polish folk song lyrics as a base code, explained his predicament.

There was silence and then an excited squeal, "Oooh Liet, like this is just too funny! I'm on my way!"

Toris gave a sigh of relief. Whatever his faults, and Feliks had many, he knew he could rely on him to help him out of sticky situation – particularly if a make-over was on the cards.

* * *

><p>Many hours later, it was just plain good luck that Russia was completely out of it, singing lewd Red Army songs, laid on the sofa in the living room, the ever-present Russi-cat on his lap, an empty vodka bottle next to him alongside a huge bottle of horse-strength tranquilisers. It was also plain good luck that Poland had brought a plethora of disguises with him when he came to Toris' rescue.<p>

However, England and Scotland did not agree.

"I am not, on your nelly, wearing that!" England shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" Toris told him.

"There's nothing wrong with it... a bit of tucking in here and there..." Poland said, a tape measure around his neck, pins in his mouth, a needle and thread ready.

Scotland laughed, "Hahaha, Arthur yer look like a wee girlie!"

"You're wearing the same," Toris told him.

"Yer've got to be joking me, man!" Scotland said, utterly outraged as Latvia forced the Scotsman into the 'custome'.

"Why can't we wear some of these?" England asked, rummaging through Russia's wardrobe and extricating various Imperial Russia, WWI and WWII uniforms.

"Well, you can't look any more ridiculous than you already look," Latvia pointed at the two of them. She was right.

Scotland had looked like a very mannish ballerina with a bow-legged walk. She didn't like to think of what his legs looked like in those pink tights. He also had an annoying habit of lifting his tutu which meant they could all see his 'bagpipe' as he horridly called it. He was now wearing a maid's outfit, complete with apron and cap.

England looked even worse – if it were possible. He still wore his wizard's robe which was in tatters, and an identical maid's outfit but for some reason, with a shorter skirt.

"You have the legs for it," Poland had told him.

"Right, remember what I told you... not a sound... Mr Russia is fast asleep and out for the count... say nothing... if he does wake up... leave all the talking to me..." Toris instructed them.

Latvia honestly thought she was going to wet her pants. Poland clasped his hands together in delight, whilst Estonia shook his head in disbelief.

"I could have gotten them out, why didn't you ask me?" Eduard asked.

"Because you're never around," Lithuania answered him, rather abruptly.

Estonia pushed his glasses up his nose, "This is going to end in disaster. The boss will never swallow any of this... we're for it," he said wisely. He ignored Latvia's sniggering, England and Scotland's dismayed and horrified glances at one another and Poland's obvious joy.

"If anyone talks about any of this to anyone... particularly to America ... and France... I swear I will kill you all," England told them, quietly.

* * *

><p>They probably would have gotten out of the house and away without Russia being any the wiser if weren't for Poland suddenly tripping at the foot of the stairs and swearing just as the two British Nations were being ushered outside (England blushing furiously and carrying a feather duster and hoping to God that he was in a bad dream).<p>

Russia broke off from his song and lurched out of the sitting room to be met by the sight of his three Baltics all looking very guilty along with Poland and two French maids. Due to the alcohol and tranquilisers, Russia's vision had gone very blurry and fuzzy so that could be the reason for what happened next.

He lurched across to Scotland, gently cupped his face in one of his huge hands and said, "You're a pretty thing... where have you come from?"

Latvia snorted with laughter – laughter that had been bubbling away all day.

The Scotsman looked Russia up and down and answered in his best Glaswegian accent, totally ignoring Toris' instructions to say nothing, "Ahm busy helping yer wee laddies and lassies clean oop, so I am... but yer a nice young man, so perhaps we can goo oot, yer know?"

Russia had no idea what this 'young lady' had said. He assumed she was talking in some obscure dialect of Polish or Lithuanian. So he did what he always did if he was confused, he looked to Toris for help.

"Sir, these _ladies_ have been helping us deep-clean the house ready for Christmas. They are friends of Pol's and now they are going home..." Toris explained, over-emphasising the word 'ladies'.

England slouched, very unlady-like against the door-jamb and rubbed his back and then twanged his bra. How on earth did France do it – going out and about in stockings and suspenders and Poland for that matter? The blond wig he was wearing was askew and one false eyelash had attached itself to his cheek like an errant spider. He looked, in short, like a very ugly drag queen.

Russia looked disappointed, "You should have told me we had company, Toris. Next time, maybe, ladies...?" he smiled, in what he thought was a seductive way but made Scotland leap back in terror and England fall through the doorway he was leaning on.

Toris practically threw England and Scotland out of the house. Poland, who was laughing so hard, he was choking, followed, threw his suitcase and the bags containing exit visas into his car and ushered Arthur and Hamish into it.

Russia frowned, he thought there something not quite right, but his befuddled brain wouldn't compute it. Probably the way the two maids walked and the fact that, although they were plastered in lipstick and eye-shadow, they looked like ... no, that can't be right. He shook his head again. He staggered back into the living room, passing Latvia on the way.

Latvia was just about on the floor, almost vomiting from laughing so hard. She felt Russia gently pat her on the head and she almost fainted from shock when he said, "We should get a maid's outfit for you, little one."

Eduard and Toris both yelled, at the same time, "Latviaaaaa!"

* * *

><p>Epilogue<p>

England and Scotland argued all the way to the airport.

"Well, Poland said I had better legs!"

"Ach, man... it was me that Ivan liked – he asked me oot!"

"Oh well, that's just top, isn't it? Asked out by Russia! Of course he was drunk..."

"You're just jealous."

"I am most definitely not!"

"Ach, yer are, man."

"Oh damn, I've got a ladder in my stocking!"

"Yer a wee girlie. Wait 'til Francis hears aboot this!"

"Tell him, and I will kill you!"

Poland just drove, admittedly in a haphazard manner, his sides aching, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't wait to see Katya.

Another day in the life of the Baltics.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

Tsar Bomba/Big Ivan or codename 'Vanya' (no, really) was detonated in the atmosphere above Novaya Zemlya archipelago on 30th October 1961 purely as a test bomb. It was the largest nuclear bomb every detonated – approximately 50 megatons of TNT – 1400 times more powerful than the combined bombs that destroyed Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Khruschev had told the UN Assembly in 1960 to expect to see something they'd never seen before. The seismic shock from the detonation was still felt on its third passage around the earth. Although detonated in the high atmosphere it still caused all the buildings 34 miles away in the test range were destroyed and the shockwave was observed 430 miles away. Windows were blown out in nearby Finland and Norway from the force of the shockwave.

Tunguska event – this occurred on June 30 1908 when an unexplained explosion happened in the Tunguska area of Siberia. It's thought that it could have been caused by a fragment of a comet or meteorite breaking up in the earth's atmosphere before hitting the earth – but this is still open to debate. About one third the power of the Tsar Bomba, it destroyed over 80 million trees in an area of roughly 830 square miles.

Amazingly, no-one was hurt in either event! The first one because it was conducted on an isolated test area, the second due to the area also being devoid of human habitation (the only witnesses being local tribes who only felt the shockwave and heard the explosion).

Look up the Tsar Bomba on youtube – all I can say is flipping heck. Wikipedia, and NASA were my resources.

In my headcanon the Nations can feel when an earthquake/volcano erupts on their land – they can feel the shockwave for example (I don't mean to upset any Japanese readers but I can only imagine how Kiku felt or Indonesia for that matter after the last huge ones – but perhaps they have so many of them they have adapted?)

Telstar – one of the first of a series of communication satellites launched by NASA in 1962 with co-operation between US, France and the UK. The very first satellite was Sputnik – launched by the Soviet Union in 1957.

Operation Paperclip – an operation by the US secret services to procure German rocket scientists from the Soviets.

Auld Willie – William Wallace (i.e. Braveheart), one of the main leaders of Scottish independence from the English. In around 1307 he was captured and hanged by Edward I of England (King Eddie)

Scottish words:

Dinnae – don't

Cannae – can't

Ah – I

Yer/ye – you

Sassenach – Scottish term for an English man/woman

Shouldnae – should not

Nivver – never

Noo – no or sometimes now

Mah – my

Fer – for

Highlands – Scottish hills/uplands

Mentoes – mint candies

Irn bru – a popular fizzy beverage manufactured in Scotland

Hockety pockety wockety wack, Abra, cabra, dabra, nack – this spell I stole from a more successful wizard than Arthur – if you can guess who and which film I got it from, you get a muffin baked by Lithuania.

Reviews/comments/PMs welcome.


	18. Victory

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourite/PMd: **

**Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, ****Weap, ****Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, ****Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, ****Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, ****Art and Soul, ****Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11,**** AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Yes, the spell from the last chapter was indeed from Merlin in the Disney movie Sword in the Stone.**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews from the last chapter – never had so many for one chapter!**

**Warnings: Angsty, mentions of the War, Prussia and swearing.**

**Settings: Moscow and Leningrad, 9 May mid 1950s**

Chapter 18 – Victory

Moscow

Latvia stood on a stool so she could reach. Her legs trembling, her fingers shaking as she pinned the medals to Russia's chest. As instructed, she'd given each one a careful polish and they gleamed in the sunshine which filtered through the windows. Over a dozen in total, she counted one 'Hero of the Soviet Union', an Order of Lenin and several campaign medals from the Battles of Stalingrad, Moscow, Smolensk and, here Latvia had paused in her polishing, the Baltic Offensive. She gulped and carefully brushed a speck of fluff off his broad shoulders and stepped down.

Russia puffed out his pale cheeks and his purple eyes met her blue ones. He actually smiled at her, a quite nervous, hesitant smile. It wasn't one of his usual smiles – intimidating or a grimace hiding the pain that he carried everywhere (although she didn't know this), it was a genuine smile of thanks for helping him.

He straightened his uniform and made sure the gold braid hanging from his shoulder wasn't tangled up. He then motioned to her to pass him his General's cap – also with gold braid around the red band. She did so and stepped back abruptly.

Actually, she thought, as she hurriedly straightened her own medal-less uniform (a Red Army private's uniform), he looked very handsome and imposing in full dress uniform, if only he'd allowed them to cut his hair which was really too long, she thought, for a soldier.

Russia straightened the knot in his tie and then wrapped his scarf around him. Latvia thought she caught a sight of scars on his pale neck, but it was only fleeting and she shook the image away and turned to her fellow Baltics.

Both were also in Red Army uniform – both bearing the insignia of junior officers of the 71st Rifle Brigade, and both wore almost as many medals as Russia. Like Russia, they held themselves straighter and looked almost noble. Latvia's heart swelled with pride.

Russia looked them over, nodded approvingly and said quietly, "Let's go..."

* * *

><p>As they stepped out of the hotel into the May sunshine, Latvia was struck at the sheer noise and the colourful red Soviet Union banners which adorned the lampposts. She gazed around in wonder before she was unceremoniously pushed into a waiting large black Zil with Toris, Eduard and Russia.<p>

She sat between Russia and Toris and felt tiny between them, their medals glinting in the sun. The two bigger Nations were silent, Russia kept fiddling with his scarf, Lithuania was looking out of the window. Eduard was talking with the driver about the limousine's petrol consumption.

Latvia's own medals – one, an Order of Lenin inscribed with the name 'Aija Yereva' – were hidden away, stashed in some long lost area of Riga forest along with a very old and probably now mouldy Red Army greatcoat and a sniper camouflage jacket.

She looked out of the window at the assembling crowds, all going in the same direction towards Red Square. Would she have done it all differently if she'd know what the Soviets would do to her country after the War, she wondered. She could never have fought alongside the Nazis, not after what they'd done to her people and she'd fought with the Russians thinking, like so many, like Toris and Eduard must have done, that only the might of the Red Army would free them from the evil of Hitler. And then a different dominion had taken them. She brushed away tears.

Toris and Ed were used to these. They'd attended every Victory Parade since the end of the War. Ed motioned to Toris, and Toris nodded imperceptibly, yes he had the vodka ready.

Russia sat with his trusted eldest Baltic on one side, and the 'little one' on the other. His hands in his lap, the only sign of any inner turmoil were the flashes of silver in his purple irises. He closed his eyes as they neared Red Square and took deep breaths.

* * *

><p>Latvia had asked Toris the day before why Russia lived in Leningrad when his capital was Moscow. All the other Nations resided in their capital cities – England in London, France in Paris, etc. Toris just answered, that "St Petersburg, as it was called then, was the capital of Imperial Russia in the 1700s and built by Mr Russia's favourite Tsars – Peter the Great and Catherine the Great." Toris guessed that Ivan stayed there as he felt closer to his last great love, Catherine. But he didn't tell Latvia this.<p>

"Isn't St Petersburg where the Russian revolution started, Toris?" Latvia had asked, innocently.

Toris had turned away. He felt the dozen silvery scars on his back ache and he took a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. It was Estonia who answered her, "Bloody Sunday, 1905, Raivis. Don't ever mention it in front of the boss, okay?" She'd nodded mutely, her eyes wide.

* * *

><p>They stepped out of the limousine at the Kremlin. Russia straightened his tunic, adjusted his cap and strode up the steps, taking the salutes from the guard of honour. The Baltics followed. Latvia looked around her. There was a weird atmosphere – a mixture of pride and the solemnity of a country remembering.<p>

They followed Russia through the maze that was the Kremlin. The large Nation's footsteps echoed down through the old fortress's corridors. He was led by a nervous looking Red Army General, who, despite being the same rank as Ivan, looked like a mouse at the side of a lion. Russia hesitated as they came to a large ante-room and squared his broad shoulders, raised himself to his full intimidating height, checked his Baltics were still behind him (like a General checking his troops before going into battle) and strode in.

"Do we follow?" Latvia whispered to Toris.

"We go where he goes today," Toris answered (Latvia hoped that didn't mean the toilet as well) "Stay in the background, keep quiet," Toris said softly.

Latvia nodded and followed Estonia in with Lithuania closed behind her. Clearly this was not a day for giggling or miming that the boss was 'nuts'.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

Not a day then for Prussia. He was in Russia's house alone, contemplating his 'alone-ness'. He'd spent the day since Russia and the Baltics had left that morning skidding up and down the tiled kitchen floor in his socks, had pranced up and down in one of Russia's greatcoats (which had come to his ankles) doing his best 'Braginski' impersonation, even going so far as to skip up and down the hallway sipping vodka and burping loudly. He was about to dance around to 'The Nutcracker' – specifically the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, Russi-cat hissing at him in disdain, when he was disturbed by the doorbell ringing.

Thinking it was the KGB, he swaggered to the door, still wearing the Red Army greatcoat, slammed it open and was about to yell, "Privet, now fuck off," in his best high-pitched Russian accent when he saw it was Sweden, Finland, Sealand and Denmark.

They stomped in without any further ado or invitation.

"Well bust my balls! What the hell? Why don't you just come in and make yourselves at home?" he said, completely exasperated as a trio of Vikings and a small boy in a sailor costume headed into the kitchen.

"Thank you, we will!" Finland called back.

"Fat commie ain't gonna be happy if you charge in doing one of your Viking raids."

"Mr Russia asked us to come here," Tino told him as Berwald switched on the kettle.

"You're fucking kidding me," Prussia raised an eyebrow and then grinned at Denmark, "Dude Den! My main man!"

They did a complicated 'dude' greeting with many high-fives and complicated handshakes.

"We're babysitting!" Sealand told him and laughed.

"Fuck off, kid, I don't need no babysitter."

"Yer do," Sweden said abruptly and started to make tea.

"Mr Russia said that last year you tried to tunnel out from the garden and got stuck in a hole and you had to be winched out," Finland said.

Sealand laughed, "Hahaha! How lame!"

"Shaddup, kid," Prussia growled, "I was digging a swimming pool."

"In Leningrad?" Sweden asked, sceptically.

"The year before that you prank-called Mr England and told him the Red Army would be crossing the Rhine... and would be at the English Channel in 24 hours and to put the kettle on and make 10 million cups of tea..." Finland said, with just the hint of amusement in his voice.

"Some people have no sense of humour. Is it my fault I do such a good job at imitating fat commie's stupid voice?"

"So, we're here to see you behave... along with Den... so sit down and suck it up," Finland said authoritatively. He was backed up by Sweden's six foot bulk behind him – the big Swedish Nation grunted in agreement and waved a teaspoon at the Prussian.

"Yeah Gilbert... behave..." Sealand said and danced away quickly from Prussia's mighty and awesome fist.

Finland sat down and started to pull his Santa paperwork out of a battered briefcase. Sweden sat opposite, pulled on his glasses and started to read out a list of boys' names. Sealand made a tent out of Russia's army greatcoats, while Denmark sat outside and smoked a cigarette.

Prussia joined the big Dane, "You not going to one of those Victory Over Me thingies?" he asked.

"It's not 'Victory Over You', dude, it was Victory in Europe, dude. Befrielsen was yesterday dude." Den put out his cigarette, "Tough times, dude. Didn't like it, man. Not good..."

Prussia, for once, was silent. He just nodded.

"Your lot were complete arseholes, dude," Den said in conclusion and then lit another cigarette.

"They weren't my lot, dude..." Prussia protested, "Fucking Hitler was a complete dickwipe... and besides bloody Russkies were complete arseholes as well."

"But whose lot were they then?" Den asked quietly and then sucked on his cigarette.

This was probably the most philosophical Prussia had ever seen his friend. The War had totally ruined their friendship for a long time and Prussia had missed that. The War had ruined a lot of things, Prussia amended in his head.

"Yeah, Hitler was one crazy, evil fruitcake, dude," Denmark said and sighed.

Prussia nodded, "Glad it's all over, dude."

"Hell yeah, man!"

"Dude Den?" Prussia asked, almost tentatively.

"Ja?"

Prussia looked out over Russia's garden at the sunflowers, roses and tulips the little Latvian guy had planted and swallowed hard. He knew he was going to be hammered into the ground by fat commie bastard for what he was going to do but... so what?

"Will you do something for me?"

"Hmmm, ja... dudes together, ja?"

"Ja," Prussia nodded and outlined his plan. Denmark took off his hat and rubbed his stuck-up blond hair and looked surprised but smiled. It wasn't his usual moronic, goony smile, or his 'on my way to tear hell up' Viking smile. It was, for once, an 'I'm with you' smile.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

Latvia stood between Lithuania and Estonia at the back of the huge podium overlooking Red Square. They were the most inconspicuous people there. Anyone watching old newsreels of the Victory Parade would see the top military commanders, generals, Marshals and Admirals together with the highest level Government officials but would not notice the two junior officers together with a private stood at the back. Even Russia himself was not in the middle of the VIPs – he stood a little to the side and back.

But to Russia the three inconspicuous figures stood at the back dodging out of the way and avoiding everybody's eyes were the most important there. They were his lifeline, the ones who kept him sane. He winced as a fellow General patted him again on the arm as they took the salute as yet another column of soldiers marched past.

Latvia's eyes were wide. She'd never seen so many soldiers, rocket launchers and tanks. If it were a show of force and strength to the rest of the world then it was certainly working.

Russia himself had a mix of emotions, as he always did at these Parades. This was the eleventh since the Great Patriotic War had ended and it was important to remember – but who could forget? Russia certainly couldn't – sleepless, sweat-induced nights filled with nightmares of screams, blood, bombs and gunfire. The loss of 23 million of his own people, or children, as he thought of them, made his scars ache, his chest hurt and his heart feel as heavy as lead.

If he lived for another 1000 years he would not forget. Yes, he was glad it was over – victory had been achieved but at what cost? Liberate Europe and put in place communism – equality for workers everywhere, Stalin had told him. Russia didn't trust anything anyone told him anymore. The communist bloc would mean a buffer zone so that the Rodina would never be invaded again, Stalin had told him.

Russia had said nothing, could say nothing, more whip-marks on his back would gain him nothing. Equality, strength, power... and at what cost? His former allies - or friends he'd tentatively - called them were now afraid of him. NATO had been set up to protect Western Europe from him – this had hurt him deeply, but when he thought of what the Red Army could do, he understood – protect your own at any cost. Isn't that what he did?

And Germany, here Russia clenched his jaw as he saluted, Germany had joined NATO. They wouldn't let him join - England, France and America looked horrified when he'd suggested - but they were willing to let Russian blood be spilled to halt the Nazis. Russia felt bitter tears spring to his eyes but blinked them away.

Lithuania nudged Latvia each time they had to salute and tensed when he saw Russia's fist clench and un-clench and the purple aura shimmer around him. Not long to go, he hoped, and then they could get him out of here and get some vodka down his throat. These parades were always tricky, they could go on a long time and Russia could get more and more irate. Occasionally, though, it was possible to sneak the large Nation off.

* * *

><p>Toris personally thought it was cruel of the Government to insist Russia be there. But then, Toris thought the Soviet Government were a cruel, barbarous lot. Stalin and his regime in particular sickened Toris. They had treated Russia as if he were a large, dangerous pet bear - one they dragged out to prove how powerful they were – to have 'control' over something so strong. Control though was a delicate thing, Toris thought, abuse could maybe subdue a wild bear, but kindness goes a long way.<p>

But such subtleties were beyond someone like Stalin and his ilk. Lithuania hoped that Russia's new boss would be different. Toris's fate was too tightly bound to Russia's and had been for centuries. If Russia suffered at the hands of a megalomaniac, cruel boss, then so did Toris – inadvertently or otherwise. Toris shuffled, feeling the scars on his back itch.

Estonia was watching the parade impassively and thinking of Miss Ukraine. He hoped she would call around later. Her visits always made Russia's household a more pleasant place to live. She was no doubt at her own Victory Parade in Kiev.

It was certainly a relief that Belarus was in Minsk – Russia had felt he couldn't stand to attention with much dignity with his little sister clinging to him.

* * *

><p>Latvia peered out behind her boss' bulk and remembered the flight into Moscow that morning - her first taste of travelling with Russia and her fellow Baltics. She'd thought that Russia, being who he was, they would have bypassed all the mind-numbingly slow queues, but not so. An hour's wait in the queue for security clearance had turned Russia into a purple-hazed monster, growling and snarling. Just as Lithuania was about to suggest he sit down while Lithuania waited in the queue instead, a baby had took to screaming and yowling ear-piercingly right behind them. To Latvia, it felt as if someone had placed an air raid siren next to her left ear.<p>

Russia had spun around, his aura blazing, his nerves already shredded – highly sensitive as his moods were – and plucked the child, a tiny little thing, from its startled mother's arms.

The Baltics all gasped. Toris stuttered, "S...S...Sir, you can't just..." he faltered.

The mother screamed.

Russia ignored them all and held the child, its face scrunched up with tears, against his chest and hummed soothingly.

The mother was yelling at him to give her baby back. Russia ignored her and the baby fell quiet.

Latvia wondered for a moment if he'd smothered it, however, when she craned her head and stood on tiptoes she could just see the child's face peeping over Russia's shoulder as he hefted it further up his body with one hand, the other hand stroking its downy head. The child's eyes were wide open and it had stopped crying. It gave a little snuffle and its tiny hand curled on Russia's huge shoulder.

The mother stopped yelling as Toris put a finger to his lips and shook his head at her. She was about to say, "You can't just take..." as Russia hummed a lullaby.

Latvia watched, much impressed as the child's eyelids drooped and the tiny chest rose and fell in sleep.

"You're a natural!" the mother said, when she saw her son/daughter (Latvia was unsure) was sound asleep, "Do you have children?"

Russia broke off from his humming and tilted his head, his eyes misted a little, "Yes, lots... 113 million, 2 hundred and 37 thousand..." Russia broke off as he started calculating.

The woman laughed nervously. The Baltics exchanged looks. Lithuania smiled, Estonia frowned, Latvia looked confused and then was about to ask Lithuania something but was shushed by him.

Russia, gently with great care, as if he were handling a precious jewel, gave the sleeping child back to its mother.

Thankfully, Russia then slept the whole hour flight to Moscow without further incidence.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

"Going out," Denmark told Sweden and Finland, he ignored Sealand, who was sat in the greatcoat tent with a torch reading some idiotic history book, 'Dictators of the World' or some such.

"Where to?" Sweden asked, looking up.

"Get some beer," Denmark answered.

"You ain't our dad!" Prussia blurted out, "We can go wherever we want... Shaddap, kid," he added as Sealand laughed inside his tent.

"Right, go on then, but be back in an hour," Finland said.

"Hahaha!" Sealand laughed.

"Why? What do you think we're gonna do?" Denmark was outraged.

"I have no idea, but I don't trust either of you... and Den...?"

Denmark wheeled around as he and Prussia sidled out of the door, "What, mum?"

Sealand snickered some more, "Hahaha, mum!"

"Don't go anywhere near the Victory Parade, you two, and behave!"

Denmark and Prussia exchanged guilty looks and then headed out.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

The Parade finally over, the Baltics heaved a collective sigh of relief. Russia headed out ahead of them, stepping down into the crowds and was shaking hands with Army veterans – many of them from the same battalion he had commanded. Toris and Eduard also shook hands with many of their former comrades. Latvia stood to one side and kept her head down. She hoped to God that no-one was around from the battalion she'd been attached to.

And then she heard, distinctly, someone shout "Major Yereva!" she ducked hurriedly and tried to hurry away but a couple of junior officers caught up with her, saluted and shook hands with her.

"You trained me as a sniper in the War, don't you remember?" one of them asked.

"Where's your medals, Comrade Major?" another said.

"Hmmmm... nice to see you again, boys," she said, smiling. It was - they had looked so fresh-faced – her fellow snipers attached to the 65th Rifle Regiment, now they had all grown up.

"You look exactly the same!" another one said.

She mumbled excuses and hurried away. She ducked away from the crowds of veterans and then dipped her head inside the nearest doorway and hid. She was shaking. She hadn't expected to come across former comrades... or that they would recognise her. By the end of the War she'd been given the job of training snipers – she'd been so good a sniper herself. And then she'd joined the Forest Brothers. She trembled and hoped to God that Russia, Lithuania and Estonia had not heard that exchange. She peered out from behind the doorway and half-hoped to see another former comrade... but would she recognise him? It was fruitless really, she thought, amongst all these people to expect to see him. She sighed, feeling quite lost, a small ache in her heart as she remembered...

* * *

><p>Russia shook hands until he felt his right hand was going to come off. He scanned the crowds, as he did every year. Searching, searching for a long blond plait, bright blue eyes... Of course she would look older now, ten years, no twelve he amended. She was probably married... maybe she was dead. He shook that thought away, but so many didn't make it to the War's end. Why hadn't she waited for him? Why did she just get up and leave? He sighed as he scanned the veterans – his eyes skimming over the men and searching through the female veterans – there weren't that many, but he couldn't find her, he doubted if he would recognise her. It had been dark... but he hoped that perhaps she would recognise him.<p>

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

Prussia and Denmark watched from behind a blossoming apple tree as the last battalions of Soviet soldiers and sailors marched down Nevsky Prospekt.

"Russkies, Russkies and more fucking Russkies..." Prussia muttered. He sucked on a cigarette. He wasn't nervous, he really wasn't. However, he did feel, more than ever, that he was 'behind enemy lines' and the enemy was a bloody big one.

"Ja," Denmark answered, watching with wide eyes.

The two Nations then headed off, trying to blend into the crowds through the city to their chosen destination.

Denmark handed his friend the flowers he'd been hiding under his long black and red coat, a bunch of sunflowers and roses.

The heads were slightly crumpled, the petals on the sunflowers already falling out, but Prussia took them from him, his face flushing.

He approached the Serafimov cemetery gates and then stopped, "Perhaps this isn't a good idea... I mean..."

Denmark shook his head and shoved him forward and they went through, "Just do it, Gil, and then we'll go and have a beer. But do it now. This place gives me the chills..." Denmark said.

They found the monument – a stone edifice with five stone soldiers standing guard, proclaiming in Cyrillic 'Dedicated to the heroic defenders of the city of Leningrad'.

Prussia looked around, ensured there were no on-lookers and placed the flowers carefully alongside many others, stepped back and saluted. It had been many years since he'd saluted and he felt stiff and quite unsoldier-like. It was a 'proper' salute as well, not one of those half-baked Hitler salutes they'd had to do in the Wehrmacht towards the end. Denmark stood next to him and also saluted and even took off his hat.

"Tell anyone about this and I'll kick your arse," Prussia muttered as they left.

"Ha! As if you could!"

"I could kick your arse if I wanted..."

"Go on then..."

"I bloody well will!"

"I'm bigger than you!"

"I can still kick your arse!"

"Do it, then..."

"What you gonna do? Tell your mum and dad?"

"They ain't my mum and dad!"

This argument continued all the way back to Russia's house.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

"I couldn't find her," Russia said sadly to Toris as the latter Nation opened another bottle of vodka and handed it to him.

They were sat in the hotel bar, both still in their uniforms – now looking slightly crumpled. Russia was on his second bottle of vodka and slurring badly. He took off his cap and rubbed his blond hair.

Toris had expected this, he heard it every year. He had no idea who this 'she' or 'her' was, some poor girl Russia had obviously met in the War. So he sat and listened patiently as Russia rambled on.

Latvia had been the first to get back to the waiting limousine, Russia, Estonia and Lithuania trailing thirty minutes later. Lithuania had told the youngest Baltic off for disappearing. She didn't answer but had just got in the vehicle and had almost fallen asleep on Russia's shoulder as they set off. She was exhausted and promised herself a long bath when they got back to the hotel. The fact that she was sharing a hotel room with three men, she'd tried not to think about.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

"Right, it's time we were off, come on Peter... put those coats back... Matthias, get in the car..." Finland ordered as Sweden washed up the cups and plates from dinner.

Denmark groaned, "Can I stay with my dude buddy?"

"No, Mr Russia and the Baltics will be back tomorrow morning. I'm sure they won't want to see your ugly face when they get back," Finland said.

Denmark shuffled out to the car, clutching his last bottle of Carlsberg. He waved forlornly to Gilbert, "Bye, dude..." he didn't really have the wherewithal to rebel.

Sealand snickered, "I bet Gilbert's scared all on his own... of the ghosties in Mr Russia's house... all those dead tsars..." he laughed evilly.

Denmark looked worried. "Dude might need me!" he said.

"There are no such things as ghosts. Shut up, Peter and stop winding him up or you'll be going to visit Mr England..." Finland said admonishingly.

"Aw man! Jerk dad England is boring..."

Prussia waved to them as they sped off in Sweden's brand new Volvo. "How lame were they? If ever I get that sad and old, I hope someone shoots me," he said to himself. He settled himself down in the living room with Denmark's forgotten crate of beer, cigarettes, some very lurid German porn and his embroidery.

* * *

><p>Moscow<p>

The four Nations shared what the hotel proprietor laughingly called a 'family room'. All Latvia could think was that it must be meant for a very small family.

There was a huge king-size bed and a sofa-bed – presumably for the 'children'. As all the other rooms were booked up and Russia refused to stay at his boss' house or at any of the apartments in the Kremlin, they were all stuck in this room.

The good news was that Russia was very drunk. In fact, Russia was very, very drunk, Lithuania had plied him with so much vodka that even if a dozen Belaruses had danced through the room, all wielding kitchen implements, he would not have noticed.

The large Arctic Nation was laid spread-eagled, fully-clothed on the huge bed fast asleep.

The bad news was that he snored. This Latvia knew anyway, but the really bad news was that the more alcohol he drank the louder he snored. The whole room seemed to vibrate and the vase of flowers on the table shook.

The three Baltics managed, after much huffing and puffing, to convert the sofa bed into a bed – which was indeed meant for two small children.

Latvia sighed, "I'll sleep in the bath," she said. She loved and trusted her fellow Baltics like brothers, but she didn't really want to share a small bed with two men...

Toris shook his head, "You sleep in here, I'll take the bath, Ed you take the floor..."

Eduard motioned to his back, "I have a bad back..."

"You always have a bad back!" Toris said.

"I don't want to sleep in here with _him_," Latvia indicated at Russia's prone form which shuffled and then suddenly turned over and settled again. They held their breath.

"The floor will do your bad back the world of good," Toris told Eduard, ignoring Raivis.

Raivis grabbed a blanket and headed for the bathroom.

There was a rumble like thunder and Russia suddenly sat up, "One of you can share with me," he slurred.

They all froze.

"Little Raivis can share with me..." and then Russia slumped back down and started snoring again.

Latvia almost fainted, her legs shook.

As it turned out, no-one shared with Russia – they would have been hard put to find a space large enough to fit around his huge form.

No-one slept in the bath – the taps leaked and there was a constant puddle at the bottom of the tub.

No-one slept on the floor – although Latvia tried it, having slept for so many years on the hard forest floor, however, she'd gotten used to a comfortable bed in the last months at Russia's house.

So, all three Baltics spent a very uncomfortable, sleepless and humiliating night on the sofa-bed:

"Your elbow's in my face!"

"Ow, Toris... you've got bony knees!"

"Shut up, the boss will hear us!"

"I can't help it... ow..."

"What on earth are you doing, girl?"

"Shut up, don't call her a girl..."

"My bra's tangled up..."

"Can I swap places with you, Ed and be at the end?"

"If you want, but then you'll be closer to Mr Russia..."

"Never mind..."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Toris woke up with a stifled scream with Russia's face peering at him just inches from his nose.<p>

"Sir!"

"Aw... my little Baltics... you all look so cute!" Russia beamed and toddled off to the bathroom.

Eduard and Raivis almost jumped out of their skins, Latvia almost burst into tears – after tossing and turning all night, she'd gotten around an hour's sleep and the sight of Russia's huge purple eyes gazing down at her as she'd woken up was just too much. Eduard fell out of bed with a thump.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

"I didn't need no fucking babysitter... especially the fucking Brady Bunch..." the speaker was of course Prussia.

Russia had no idea who the Brady Bunch was and so ignored the small Prussian who was following him around his house berating him.

Toris, with bags under eyes, really felt too tired to even try and protect Gilbert this time, just switched the kettle on and started peeling potatoes for lunch. They'd only just arrived back and Prussia had barely left them alone.

"You missed us, da?" Russia asked, wheeling around.

"Sod off," Prussia answered.

There was a yell from outside and Latvia came stumbling over the kitchen threshold, "You... you... uprooted my flowers... I was growing those sunflowers and..." she pointed at Prussia, "You hooligan!"

She skidded to a stop then when she realised that Russia had heard. "Shit... I didn't mean..." she really didn't want Prussia to be pummelled into the ground. Too late.

Prussia was about to answer, when Russia grabbed him by the throat and lifted him to eye level.

"You have upset my little Baltic..." he growled.

"Well... the thing is..." Prussia thought furiously of an excuse and then resigned himself to a punch in the face – he certainly wasn't going to admit to Russia that he'd taken his precious sunflowers to a war memorial.

And then, Prussia's awesome looks were saved – by a very unlikely source. The telephone rang and Estonia answered it.

Everyone froze, Russia raised his fist – trying to decide whether to break the Prussian's nose or teeth – or both, Latvia hopping around trying to say something to stop the bloodshed, Lithuania waving a bottle of vodka around, and they heard Estonia shout, "Sir! I think you need to hear this... it's the KGB..."

Russia snarled and dropped Prussia to the floor, "I'm not done with you..." he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Estonia put the phone down and turned to Russia, he glanced at Prussia with a bemused look on his face, "The KGB surveillance team said that Gilbert left the house yesterday lunch-time with a tall, gormless looking blond man with strange, sticky-up hair..." Estonia began to say, reading out from the notes he'd taken.

Russia spun around to Prussia, "You weren't supposed to leave the house..."

"Hey! Den ain't gormless!" Prussia yelled.

Estonia continued, "The two individuals proceeded to Nevsky Prospekt where they were observed acting suspiciously behind an apple blossom tree..."

Lithuania shook his head, "Please tell me you didn't flash at the parade?" he said with a groan.

"Kes..." Prussia's laugh was interrupted by a large hand around his throat.

"Why you little..." Russia began.

"They then skipped..." Estonia's eyes went wide and looked up at Prussia.

"We don't skip... we're not girlies... like Latvia dude..."

Russia's grip tightened and Prussia gurgled.

"... made their way to Serafimov cemetery..."

Russia's grip tightened even more.

"...and laid flowers at the War Monument..." Estonia ended hurriedly, hoping he'd said it quick enough before Prussia lost consciousness.

Russia abruptly dropped the dangling Germanic ex-Nation, his eyes wide.

"Oooooh," Latvia said, "That was... nice..." she added.

Russia pulled Gilbert to his feet and then did something he had never ever done or probably would ever do again - he shook the dazed Prussian's hand.

Prussia said nothing, his face bright red – whether from lack of breath or from embarrassment, it was unsure. However, as soon as Russia released his hand, he wrenched it away and wiped it on his trousers.

Russia affected not to notice, "Come on, Toris," Russia said, "Get some lunch on, I'm starving... It's nice to be back, eh? I missed my home... Don't worry, little Raivis," he added, patting Latvia on the head, "We can plant some more flowers... I could help you. We'll spend some quality time together this afternoon, gardening..."

Prussia made an obscene gesture at Latvia behind Russia's back and danced off 'kesesing' as quietly as he could.

**Author's Note:**

**The Soviet Union/Russia hold their Victory Parade on 9th May as they didn't get the details of the surrender of Nazi Germany until after midnight on the 9th May Moscow time, in Western Europe it was 8th May- VE Day (Victory in Europe Day). All the Soviet bloc recognised Victory Day as 9th May, including East Germany who called it 'Liberation Day'.**

**I have no idea about medals, I just did a quick search on Wikipedia. I reckon the medal Russia wears on his greatcoat in the anime looks like the 'Hero of the Soviet Union' one which is a gold star on a red ribbon.**

**Zil – Soviet manufacturer of trucks etc that also made large armour-plated limousines for the Soviet government officials**

**The Kremlin (kremlin is Russian for citadel) was built as a fortified palace for the Grand Princes of Moscow before becoming the seat of Government of Soviet Russia.**

**Befrielsen – Liberation day in Denmark falls on the 8th May**

**The Rodina – Russian term for Motherland/Mother Russia/Mother Homeland**

**NATO – West Germany joined NATO on 9 May 1955, the Soviet Union had asked to join in 1954...**

**Nevksy Prospekt – the main street in Leningrad where the city's Victory Parade is usually held. Each major city in Russia has a victory parade on the 9th May, but the Moscow one is the biggest.**

**Serafimov cemetery – one of the oldest cemeteries in Leningrad and it does have a monument dedicated to the defenders of the city.**

**Wehrmacht – the combined armed forces of Nazi Germany. The officers of the Wehrmacht didn't necessarily have to do the Hitler salute – in many cases they used the ordinary right handed salute like other armed forces, however, towards the end of the War this was changed.**

**The scene where the Baltics are all sharing a bed I stole straight out of Hetalia World Series episode 5...**

**I wanted this to be mainly a Russia back story so it turns out quite angsty, but its also unashamedly a tribute to Ivan with added Baltics and, of course, because I couldn't do angst the whole time, a little peppering of Prussia/Denmark. I was also going to uploads this on the 8th/9th but will be busy then, so here goes...**

**Reviews/PMs/Comments welcome.**


	19. Secrets Part 1

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd: **

**IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, Weap, Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Warnings: After the last episode, its crack and silliness all the way with lots of sexual innuendo, hints of yaoi, lots of swearing. This chapter is written slightly different (don't worry folks it's not a songfic), purely from Latvia's point of view, her journal entry.**

**Location: Leningrad and Berne, Switzerland, late 1950s**

**Chapter 19: Secrets Part 1**

Entry: 9th July 1959

I really need to get a journal that is not pink and glittery – thanks for the gift, Gilbert, NOT. He 'claims' that his is black and 'awesome' – I presume he means his diary and not... oh I don't know, I don't want to ask. Anyway, I've almost filled up this journal so will have to write small. Only Gil knows I keep it – it's a secret I share with him, and thankfully the only secret I share with him. He really is a complete idiot. If he calls me a 'dude girly chick' again I will seriously do him harm.

Or feed him to Belarus. Seriously, she is one crazy woman. She scares me, I'm not easily scared, I've brought down a German machine gunner with just my sniper rifle, but that girl is weird. She wants to marry her brother! I've already told you, diary about that time she trapped him in the basement and he wouldn't come out... I laughed and laughed – quietly though. Her sister's nice though. I like Katya, but I really wish she would stop hugging me – her boobs are huge. Mine aren't, I could actually get away with not wearing a bra... but I suppose that helps with my disguise.

So... another day in this crapsack place, under the dominion of Mr Russia. I'm not going to fill this journal with any more entries about Gilbert's 'escape missions', Toris' lovely cooking, washing underwear – honestly, it's awful living with four men and having to wash their smalls. This time something exciting is going to happen. No, diary we haven't got a new washing machine – although Mr Russia's face was a picture – he sat for a whole two hours watching the washing going round and round. And we haven't found another lost kitten (I don't believe in all that domovoi rubbish, I mean really, do they think I was born yesterday?). These are all the sum excitement of living in this house.

No, we are all off to Switzerland! When I asked Mr Russia if it was a holiday, he just glared at me in that way he does... it made me shiver and not in a good way. He said that it was a world meeting and Mr America (he made him sound like a supervillain) wanted to meet him about nuclear weapons. I switched off after that. Nobody's interested in what a small Nation like me has to say. I have no opinions as a Soviet Republic, to be honest as the boss went on and on about the Cold War, NATO and all that for about half an hour until Toris steered him away with a bottle of vodka, I was thinking – yay! I'm going to meet some other Nations... maybe just maybe they might be normal?

* * *

><p>They're not normal. I've just been talking to Katya while we packed our suitcases. The boss's suitcase had to be re-packed.<p>

I cannot believe that somebody who is over a 1000 years old still has no idea what to take on a two day trip. His suitcase had over a dozen bottles of vodka, four scarves (it's July and we're going to Switzerland, not Siberia), a piece of lead piping from who knows where, a machete, a very tattered copy of Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, some pink! wool and knitting needles. No spare underkegs, toiletries or other personal stuff. He's not right in the head.

Katya, who I think is like everybody's ideal mum, threw out everything but one of the vodka bottles, and shoved in his pink boxers (that was my fault, I'd put them in with some red socks), some clean shirts (one had a burn mark on the back from when I'd left the iron on it – I was chasing Gilbert out the door at the time) and his shaving stuff. He won't notice the burn mark – he never notices anything. I'm convinced I could sashay around the house wearing nothing but stockings and suspenders and cat ears and he'd just wave his pipe at me and tell me to get some work done.

Katya also tried shoving some lacy underwear stuff in my suitcase – which I threw back out. But while we were packing she told me about the other Nations I would be meeting, here's what she said (and I've tried to recount as accurately as I can).

"I like America, don't tell Vanya..." (she always calls the boss Vanya – but sometimes it's 'little' Vanya which creases me up – the guy's over six foot tall and built like a brick outhouse). "...but he's always shouting and eating... I've never seen anyone eat as much as him. Don't worry if he calls you something stupid, I don't think he can talk properly..."

"England is a sweetie but he's not right in the head. He only has to see a hint of boob and he faints..."

"France... well where do I start? Stay well away from him, sweetie. He might believe you're a boy, but that won't stop him..." (I asked her 'stop him what?') "... he'll grope anyone, anytime, anywhere. But thankfully, he's terrified of Vanya so if in doubt stick close to him."

"Spain is lovely. What a gorgeous arse! Whoops did I just say that? Anyway, he's largely oblivious and usually cheerful, you'll get on with him as long as you don't talk about anything serious."

"Little Feliciano is a sweetheart," (Who?) "... but I think he's gay and not quite right in the head... his brother's a complete downer though, always in a bad mood, and always moaning. Mind you, he spent most of his early life dressed as a girl and living with Mr Spain..."

I asked about Mr Germany, but Katya – like the boss – kind of went into a purple haze carry-on. So I switched to asking about Mr Switzerland.

"Hahaha! Vash is hilarious... He makes me laugh so much... him and Mr Austria... it's a real comedy duo..."

I felt quite pleased about that – they sound funny and nice. I asked about the other female Nations.

"Do you mean Pol?"she said, that, of course, is not really what I meant. Sure, Pol looks good in a skirt. Hell, he looks better than me in a skirt... I love Pol, he's hilarious.

"Oh, Hungary is okay... just don't mention war, any war. She's a tough cookie. Liechtenstein's nice – but stay away, unless you want a bullet in your head. Belgium's nice, I don't know if she's going to be there."

I then opened another can of worms by saying that at least the Nordics were going to be there and I knew them already ...

"Nutcases." (I thought this was a bit strong as I lived with the biggest baddest nutcase of them all who happened to be her 'little' (haha) brother).

"I hope they keep Den on a leash this time. If he twangs my bra again I'm going to set Natalya onto him." (I like Denmark and told her so...) "He's a goon. Don't let him get too close, Latty sweetie, when he's had a few drinks he'll have a go – he might carry on with all that masculine Viking rubbish but he'll jump anything... if in doubt stick close to Vanya."

So, according to Katya, they're all sex-mad nutters, or gun-toting nutters or just plain nutty.

I don't like all this 'stick close to the boss' that she said. I worry about her motives, she's hinted before about me getting it on with the boss. Oh dear Lord, that is so not going to happen, will never happen, as long as I live... the guy's a psychopath, I wouldn't survive and besides there's only one man for me... He was tall and Russian, and there the similarity ends.

Anyway, I'm convinced that the boss is gay or something. He never goes on dates. Toris, who is gay or at least bisexual, is always going out with hordes of women (that's why Gil hates him). But the boss doesn't go anywhere. Unless... that's why we're sent away every year on the 21st December – I bet he gets in hordes of prostitutes and has a massive orgy. Nope, can't see it, he doesn't look like he knows what he's doing.

* * *

><p>Just had the 'big brother' talk with Toris. He really gets on my nerves sometimes. We were about to get in the car, Gilbert was yelling something about 'Awesome dudes we're getting out of this crapsack place' – he reads my mind sometimes and Toris pulled me to one side.<p>

He just about repeated everything Katya had said about France, Denmark and various other male Nations who might try and grope me and although that sounds quite exciting it would also mean they would find out I'm a girl and that would be baaaad. So he told me to stick close to the boss. So this weekend is going to be just brilliant isn't it? I finally get to meet all the other Nations but I have to stick with Mr Psychokiller Russia the whole time.

* * *

><p>I wrote all this while sat in the toilets at the airport and I think I might have dropped my ID card down the loo...<p>

* * *

><p>I did drop my ID card down the loo and the security people had a proper bitch about it. Gil was right, they do need to chillax. The boss went a bit mental when they threatened to strip-search me. Sometimes it's useful having a huge scary boss-dude (I never will call him a fat commie bastard like Gil does).<p>

* * *

><p>I didn't realise Switzerland was so beautiful – the country not the Nation. The Nation is... oh dear, he greeted us at the door to this huge hotel we're all staying in and said that we were staying there because 'he wasn't having Italy streaking across his lawn again, Den drinking all his beer and Austria eating all his food'. I have no idea what he was talking about.<p>

He then waved a rifle at us and told us to behave or, as this was Switzerland, we would be escorted back to the airport. The boss looked as if he were going to wrap Switzerland's rifle around his head, but clever bugger Toris steered him towards the hotel bar.

I said hello to this really nice girl with blond hair, wearing a red dress and I had Switzerland's rifle stuck in my face. I had no idea what I'd done to deserve it. He told me to 'back off, young man before I blow your brains out'.

My disguise is holding up then. The boss came charging out of the bar with that 'kolkol' look on his face and shoved me out of the way and told Mr Switzerland 'if he touched his littlest Baltic again he would be pushing up daisies'.

Mr Switzerland actually did put down his rifle, but gave the young girl a hug as if we were all rabid Vikings and were going to carry her off. She looked a bit annoyed.

I still have no clue as to why Katya described Mr Switzerland as 'funny'. He didn't tell one joke or laugh at all.

* * *

><p>Anyway, things are looking up. For once I am not sharing with Toris and Ed and have my own room. The bad news is the boss is in a room one side of me and Katya and Belarus are the other side. I will get no sleep.<p>

I like Peter, he's a nice boy but sometimes I think he thinks I'm the same age as him – 12 or something. He said that we should prank the Nations. It's something he says he does every time at these meetings. I don't know if I believe him on this. He's always bragging, he reckons one day he's going to be bigger than all of them and crush Russia and 'Jerk Dad England' – his name for Mr England. He also says he's made of steel and has a rocket punch. I just try to humour him.

Apparently, we're going to hide under the conference table this afternoon while the meeting is going on and he's going to put itching powder in Mr England's pants. Anyway, he told me all this while stood in my bedroom doorway and then dashed off in his little sailor suit when Mr Sweden shouted at him. How did I get reduced to this? I'm a grown female Nation, I don't do pranks. It's so childish.

* * *

><p>This afternoon was so funny. Mr England was leaping around the conference room, scratching his arse like he had fleas. I don't know how Peter and I kept from laughing out loud.<p>

Mr France then tried to take Mr England's pants off. This resulted in loads of swearing. I thought Mr England was a gentleman. That's how he introduced himself to me. He's not. I counted four 'bloodies', three 'wankers', two 'fucks' and six 'tarts' – one of them a French one apparently.

Mr America who's supposed to be Mr England's friend just laughed very loudly and kept saying 'Haha, you guys kill me!' Mr Germany kept slamming about and tutting. He said they were very childish and they had a lot of work to do and should stop messing about. I don't like Mr Germany, I would have preferred to put itching powder in his pants. Italy – the north one – kept throwing me and Peter biscuits.

The only other person who knew we were there was the boss. I've stuck close to Russia since I met Mr France. He tried to grope my bottom after I was introduced to him (France, not the boss) and then said he would show me the 'Eiffel Tower'. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I told him that I wasn't allowed anywhere without Mr Russia and that if I visited this 'Eiffel Tower' which he assured me was 'tres grand', Mr Russia would have to come with me. Mr France went very quiet and very pale then. I'm not sure why.

Anyway, I practically held the boss' hand into the conference room and snuck in under the table. I think the boss liked that and he kept leaning down and patting my head. I think sometimes he thinks me, Toris and Ed are his pets. I prefer it like that than when he's kolkolling and threatening to re-arrange our faces – although he never does.

It took ages for them to get settled again. Mr England had to leave and change his pants. I think Mr America must have thought he was at a fancy dress party or something because he was dressed as superman. Not many men can pull off wearing blue tights. Apart from Pol of course. He's just a legend.

But Mr America's legs aren't anywhere in the same league as Spain's bottom. Katya was right – it is gorgeous. Nice, tight, firm... ooooh my writing's gone funny.

It's not normally something I notice about a bloke. Although I think Katya does – she's keeps pinching Ed's bottom when she thinks no-one is looking – Ed looks like he's going to have a heart attack. Toris has quite a nice bottom – but apparently it belongs to Pol – as he tells us frequently. I don't think I've ever noticed the boss's bottom. He's always got a knee-length coat on.

* * *

><p>It's eyes that I like... ah... I met Mr Austria today. Such a nice, normal, respectable, polite gentleman. A true gentleman. Gorgeous purple eyes. He blathered on about young Nations and the future's all about us and blah blah blah but I was too busy looking into those beautiful amethyst orbs.<p>

It was kind of spoilt for me quite a bit though when Gilbert swaggered up and yelled in his fog-horn voice, "Yo cheapskate, stop bothering Latvia girly dude, he ain't got no money to lend you."

I twatted Gilbert around the head, for several reasons really. Firstly, for calling me a girly dude – although in one sense I wouldn't mind Mr Austria finding I was a girl and secondly because I just felt like it.

Gilbert kesesed and told Mr Austria that "we were best buddies" and that I was the "farting champion after fat commie bastard".

I will never forgive him. How will I ever get a date with him around? Mr Austria seemed to be as annoyed with Gil as I was and his face went really really red and he yelled that Gilbert was an "uncouth, slovenly individual with next to no manners and was morally bankrupt". I think I'm in love.

The boss told me, as we left Gil sat cooing over a little, yellow chick, that Mr Austria was "not an aristrocrat, he was just a nutter who owned a mansion". This, coming from a man who slept with a faucet pipe which he wraps around people's heads.

Gil was happy – he's been reunited with Gilbird after many years apart. I had no idea who 'Gilbird' was. Whenever he talked about the 'awesome Gilbird', I thought it was some mysterious younger brother. However, Gilbert's younger brother is not some small yellow chick – he's Ludwig – Germany – the huge blond Nation who invaded me. I think I might have an allergy to big blond Nations. This Gilbird is a tiny yellow chick that chirps in his ear and 'tells him things'. Gil says that "he's an eagle chick that will rise again as a mighty eagle once the Nation of Prussia rises again". Of course it will and I'm going to be the next Mrs Russia... hahaha.

The chick's been living with his brother all this time (Gil's brother, the chick doesn't have a brother). Gil says he "didn't want Gilbird living under fat commie bastard's evil dominion because fat commie bastard would probably have sat on it and squashed it".

I disagreed. Mr Russia is actually, despite being built like a truck, quite gentle really. He was careful with Boris when he was a kitten and I've never seen him hurt an animal. However, he regularly hurts the KGB, various Red Army officials, that guy who came around to fix our kitchen and tried to charge us double and that milkman who got 'fresh' with Katya. But animals? No.

* * *

><p>So I'm back in my room. Chaos is going on outside in the corridor. There is some 'honhonning' or some such from Mr France, I think, and I heard someone running and then some giggling. There's a cleaners cupboard across the hall from me and I think somebody has just gone in there.<p>

* * *

><p>Its gets weirder and weirder. I popped out to see who'd gone into the cleaner's cupboard with Mr France – there were loads of grunting and I thought about knocking on the door and asking them if they wanted me to get Mr Russia to help them get something off the top shelf when a short woman jumped out from nowhere brandishing a camera. She shoved me out of the way and threatened me with a frying pan if I disturbed them. She then knelt down and peered through the keyhole. I never thought of this. I don't go around peering through keyholes. She then gave me strict instructions to pull open the door on her 'say so'. I decided not to argue with her, she had a funny look in her eyes. Anyway, on '3' I flung the door open and she began snapping.<p>

Let me tell you, diary, I have never laughed so much in my life. Mr France and Mr Spain stumbled out, both with their trousers around their ankles. This woman shouted "Gotcha" and they both groaned. Neither seemed too surprised when she ran off shouting that she would "make money out of this". I wonder if she's going to blackmail them?

But neither of them seemed embarrassed. Indeed, Mr France tried to get me to go back in with them. I declined, forcefully and backed away – right into the boss.

I was glad he was there. Mr Russia growled at them and told them "to go and be gay elsewhere".

He makes me laugh sometimes. He went really red. He does blush very easily anyway. Mind you, I was blushing as well when France waved his 'equipment' around (France's 'equipment', not Mr Russia's 'equipment' – I think they would have had to scrape him off the floor if France had attempted to handle Mr Russia's 'equipment'). On the other hand, he needs to get new equipment (France, not the boss). But I didn't tell him that.

I think France and Spain did go off and 'be gay somewhere else' because they pulled their pants up very quickly when the boss pulled out his pipe (his actual pipe - that's not a euphemism for anything) and I was about to go back into my room when the boss pulled me back and said I had to meet someone.

I thought he was a she. I really did. He had the most gorgeous long black hair and is even smaller and daintier than I am. The boss practically lifted the guy up and hugged him in his arms. It was quite sweet really. But I don't think Mr China saw it that way.

He kept batting the boss on the shoulder and telling him to put him down. He's really nice and shook my hand. He's got really small, delicate hands but very large brown eyes that seemed to look deep into my soul... Getting mystical here, diary. But it's not every day that you get to meet someone who's over 4000 years old.

When the boss had stopped dancing about and calling Mr China 'my little Yao', Mr China all the time giving him funny looks, he asked me some polite questions about my life and how was I finding it living with Mr Russia (China that is, not the boss, the boss knows how I am, seeing as how I live with him day in, day out).

What could I say? The stock answer Gilbert gives, if anyone asks, is that it's a life of hell, torture, abuse and rape. He's such a big, fat liar. I told him that I was still learning from my fellow Baltics and I was still a young Nation but would grow bigger. (Mr Russia liked that, he kept nodding.) Mr China leaned into me and whispered, "I know you're a girl!"

I almost fell over and I stuttered and stammered. Mr China, the oldest, wisest Nation on earth, the third largest Nation (although he's like a little doll) actually winked at me. He then stood on tiptoes and patted the boss on the head (Mr Russia bent down and let him do it, like he was a large dog) and then padded off.

* * *

><p>I ran back into my room and have updated this diary. I really hope he doesn't tell anyone, especially the boss. Toris said once that Russia used to say he wished Toris was a girl because he always wanted to have loads of kids. There is no way I'm giving birth to Russia version 2.0, he can go and...<p>

I think Belarus has arrived. I can hear the scraping of knives in the next room, and ... there it goes the 'marry me, marry me' and... there goes the boss running down the corridor. Hahaha, what a loser.

* * *

><p>Diary, I spoke too soon. It's 2 am now and I'm now hiding in the bathroom. What an awful evening. I'll try to explain and go back to when Belarus chased the boss down the corridor yelling 'marry me'...<p>

**Author's Notes:**

**Soviet Union and America had quite a few meetings in the early 1950s about a variety of issues – nuclear weapons, East and West Germany etc. In many of them UK and France were present, but I thought I would have some of the other Nations butting their noses in as well.**

**Thank you to Irish Maid for pointing out Gilbird's omission from the last chapters... I had no idea how to fit him/her/it in, so have included an explanation in here. If anyone is wondering where he is in Revelations – he will pop up later – quite spectacularly as well.**

**PM/Reviews/Comments – does this first person diary work? Part 2 coming up.**


	20. Secrets Part 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd: **

**NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, Weap, Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Warnings: swearing, stupidity, silliness**

**Chapter 20: Secrets Part 2**

As the boss was otherwise 'busy', I bobbed downstairs to see if I could find Mr Austria and maybe find out a bit more about him... Oh dear Diary, he is so dreamy, I found him playing the piano in the hotel bar – he was playing some classical stuff, not sure what but he looked so intense... Of course it didn't last long because Gil and Den came swaggering in, laughing like the louts they are.

Gilbert started saying something about 'poncy dead composers' and poor Mr Austria started to bash the piano keys. Den was laughing in his foghorn voice and had a tatty uniform on. When I asked him why he was in uniform instead of his usual black and red coat which held his many bottles of beer, he told me, "Gil and me are going on the pull tonight and everyone knows that women like a man in uniform".

I thought he looked like a fool and told him so. Actually, he is right, kind of, I like a man in uniform – but not a postman's uniform, I expect he stole it from some poor soul. It was also clearly too small for him.

They were discussing their chat-up lines very loudly and poor Mr Austria was bashing his keys to try and drown them out. I only heard snatches because I was trying to concentrate on the wonderful music and then that small, brown-haired woman came charging in – the one who had the camera.

She clearly knows Gil because she punched him in the head as she went past. I like her.

Gilbert yelled "she loves me really!" and Den shook his head and said "Dude, I don't think so..." and then she waved a frying pan at Gil and then sat down on the piano stool with Mr Austria and ruffled his hair. Now I hated her.

I asked Gil who she was and he said that she was 'Elizaveta Ballbuster Hedervary', Den nodded and offered me a beer, which I refused. I want to stay sober and dignified.

I was still no wiser, I asked if she was Liechtenstein but this just had them laughing hysterically. Apparently the girl who I'd spoken to earlier and nearly got a face full of bullets for was Liechtenstein, Switzerland's little sister.

I was saved by Pol and Toris who'd disappeared all afternoon and came down looking all ruffled (the boss would probably say that they'd 'been gay' somewhere). Pol ran up to this woman and hugged her saying "Lizzy sweetie you old tart!" I don't know how he gets away with stuff like this, I reckon it's the skirt. Toris asked me what I thought of Hungary and then I clicked. Oooh, so she's Austria's ex-wife... now I _really_ hate her.

Den offered me another beer and asked if I wanted to "go out on the pull for some birds with him, Gil, Francis-dude, Tony-dude and Alfie-dude". I declined. The said so-called 'awesome trio' and 'bad touch trio' – Gil being a member of both were apparently going to 'paint the town red' Den said. It was unfortunate that a few things happened as he said this.

One was that the boss walked in, or actually he skidded in. I think he was being chased by Belarus, but we couldn't see her. He'd probably given her the slip. Anyway he heard the words 'paint the town red' and said he would go with them.

France walked in at that point and went white, Gilbert almost had a fit and said that there was "no fucking way that fat commie bastard was coming with them" because he was "totally un-awesome". Den, who's very laid back to be almost horizontal was grinning and said "yeah, dude..."

The boss looked really upset and looked as if he was going to punch Gil, he said something about "liking painting" but then we heard the 'marry me, marry me' chant and he skidded back out.

Also America and England walked in at that point and Mr England had a carry-on and told America that "he shouldn't hang around with those hooligans, that he was a Nation and had a reputation to uphold" and that the last time he was out with them he'd apparently "got drunk and ended up on a cargo ship heading for Peru".

Of course this was peppered with loads of 'bloodies', 'damns' and 'wankers' and he referred to Gil, Den, Spain and France as 'nobheads'. We (well me, Toris and Pol) – Mr Austria, being a complete gentleman, ignored this exchange waited with baited breath.

Hungary asked America if he needed a note from England that gave him permission to go out.

Mr America is not, I think, the brightest bulb in the pack, because he seemed to think about this and then he said, I mean he yelled, "I don't need no note, Hungaria! Come on, my main dudes, let's rock!" and then he charged out with his little gang...

He came back five minutes later and asked for some pocket money from Mr England. I quite like Mr England and I'm a bit sorry I helped Peter put that itching powder in his pants – he was still scratching tonight.

* * *

><p>Anyway, I think Mr America has mental problems because I went out to look for Katya and bumped into him. He'd obviously got changed and was wearing a normal suit. I said "Hello, Mr America, I thought you were going out with Gil, Den and the others?" Anyway, he wasn't happy and he started telling me off and saying he wasn't America and that he was fed up of everybody, he then huffed a bit – all in a very quiet voice and then stomped off. Strange guy. I liked his polar bear cuddly toy though, how cute is that?<p>

So the boss is right and Mr America is insane... Actually, I'm starting to think they're all insane. I was hoping to ask someone normal how married Austria and Hungary were, if you know what I mean.

* * *

><p>Anyway, I ran into that small Italian guy's brother – he said his name was Romano. He seemed okay, at first. I said I'd met his brother and he started ranting about somebody called "potato bastard" who apparently was a bad influence on somebody called "fratello". I have no idea what he was on about.<p>

I thought, because his brother had lived with Mr Austria for a long time (I know my history) he might know something about him. He told me (the cheeky bugger called me a "trembling bastard!") to go and have a word with "Uncle Switzy" and that "Uncle Switzy was best friends with Mr Austria and he would tell me all about him".

I did point out that Mr Switzerland had stuck a rifle under my nose, but Romano told me that I should have called Switzerland "Uncle Switzy" because he likes that, but perhaps he's right and I got off on the wrong foot.

* * *

><p>I went in search of Mr Switzerland, passing the boss on the way – he was sat behind the reception desk hiding from his sister. Well, he was under the reception desk actually – I could tell because the reception staff were shivering and shaking. I could also see his massive feet sticking out. I said, "Hi, Sir!" as I went past – I couldn't resist it and he stuck his head out and looked bewildered. "Latvia! You saw me? Is Belarus around?" he asked, but I pretended not to hear and sodded off.<p>

I found Mr Switzerland. This was a mistake and one of the reasons I found myself later on very drunk.

If I live to be as old as the boss I will regret, even then, uttering the words "So, Uncle Switzy, what do you think of Mr Austria?"

'Uncle Switzy' was clearly not a title he liked. I thought he was going to shoot my head off. I thank God sometimes, that I am one of Russia's 'little Baltics'. I am going to get Romano for this.

One hour later, I was on my third beer (he was on his seventh) and he still, it seemed, had many more things to tell me about his thoughts on 'that useless aristocrat'. I will try to recall them as best as I can:

"Yer see, Raivis," Uncle Switzy slurred, slamming his beer back down on the bar, "I've known him since we were kids, an' not once, _not once_, 'ave I heard him laugh. He's got no sense of humour and even less of a sense of style. He's been wearing that cravat since the bloody 13th century. The same sodding cravat. At least I have a proper range of outfits... ya know, a military uniform, t-shirts, jeans, and a suit. What more do you need?"

I didn't know what to say to that, even the boss has more of a range than that – well, no he doesn't actually – it's all long coats and scarves.

"And don't even get me _started _on that house. I helped him build it sometime in the tenth century – well, me, him and some other guys... Saxony, Spain, Liz, you know – but did I get any credit? Bloody no! He makes it sound like he built it all by himself. Bloody fool. I bet you my bank account that he can't even lift a brick."

He was really drunk now, I mean he referred to Liz as a guy... Maybe she used to dress as a boy like I do now? Perhaps I should talk to her.

Then he carried on about training Mr Austria, "I told him to train soooo many times, but did he? No! Stupid aristocrats. The funniest part is that he isn't even a real Count. And believe me, when it all comes down to it he's just as much of a commoner as the rest of us. He just won't admit it. Bloody ponce."

I thought I'd ignore all this. I don't particularly want a tough guy, I can look after myself. Although I suppose someone with a few muscles wouldn't go amiss... someone who would stand up to the boss. I bet my Ivan back in the war would have stood up to Russia, now he felt like he had muscles... (why am I thinking about _him_?)

Anyway I asked him the million ruble question: "Weren't you married to him?" (I remembered an old conversation with Toris, when he'd said that he and Pol weren't the only male nations to have gotten married long before it was legal... though their ways of evading the law were more dramatic than most.)

I thought 'Uncle Switzy' was going to go mental and he broke the glass in his hand. "That was politics, Latvia. I didn't love him."

"I never said you did." I said.

"Well, I didn't. And even if I did, what does it matter anyway? Doesn't change the fact that he ran off with Fraaaaaaaance."

And then he slammed out, swearing and carrying on so I gave up and went in search of Lily to tell her that I may have just broken her brother.

* * *

><p>I didn't get far because I ran into Katya who asked me to come swimming with her in the hotel pool. I told her there were several problems with this. One being that I didn't have a swimming costume and the other being I was supposed to be a boy and if anyone saw me with boobs – they're small but they're not small enough to hide in a swimming costume – then my cover would be blown.<p>

She said that everyone was busy elsewhere. Pol and Toris were smooching in the hotel bar, Mr England was getting drunk with Mr China, Ed was out in the city somewhere, Peter had been sent to bed by his 'mum and dad', I saw Mr Norway briefly looking for Den – I told him he'd gone out with Gil and he didn't look best pleased, and it sounded like there was a big argument going on between that older Italian brother and Mr Germany... except Mr Germany looked as if he was just ignoring Romano. There was a very quiet, dark-haired man sat in a corner reading a book who kept looking up and shaking his head at everyone. Katya said he was 'Kiku', I waved at him but he looked really uncomfortable and ignored me.

How do I get into these situations? I ended up going swimming with Katya. She was right, there was nobody else about. Probably because it was 10.00 pm and everyone was getting drunk. I felt a bit drunk, but was okay. She lent me one of her swimming costumes. Which was, shall we say, rather big. There was room for two of me in it. Or perhaps three. I didn't tell her this. It's years since I've been swimming. I once went skinny-dipping in a river in the Riga Forest with... oh well that was a long time ago. You don't get much chance of swimming in Russia. So it was lovely. Until that is, I heard the boss come stomping in.

I only just managed to take a deep breath and go underwater. I thought I was going to drown.

I could just see his huge feet on the edge of the pool and had an awful urge to pull him in. That would have been hilarious. But also disastrous. He obviously didn't see me drowning. I stayed close to the edge of the pool near to Katya while she distracted him.

I was just about coming to the end of my breath when she dislodged one of her mighty boobs and he took off. Thank goodness, I thought for a minute he was going to strip off and jump in.

It was too close a call for me and I told Katya that I was getting out.

She said 'okay' and just grinned at me. I don't trust her sometimes. I asked her what the boss had said and she said that he was still hiding from Belarus. She also said that she'd asked him to 'jump in for a swim' but he declined – he didn't have his swimming trunks. I could have smacked Katya then, only she's bigger than me. Although I am quite interested as to what Mr Russia looks like without his six layers of clothing. I accidentally said this to her (I've had way too many beers) and she said that 'somehow she would arrange it'. I'm quite scared about this, she had a weird glint in her eye and I decided to bugger off.

* * *

><p>But it was like going out of the frying pan into the fire. I pattered into the ladies changing room. Please note, diary, that this was the LADIES changing room. There was no-one around I thought at first, but I noticed some heavy breathing coming from a closed cubicle. I bent down and had a look and saw some familiar massive feet. There's only one person who has feet that big, even Pol's aren't that big (for a short cross-dresser he has large feet). I doubt Mr Russia's a pervert, he's never shown any inclination towards being a peeping tom. In fact I would say quite the opposite – he gets easily flustered and blushes bright red when sex is mentioned or Gil starts on one of his fantasies about the number of women he's seduced (which is way less than Toris). So he was obviously hiding from Belarus.<p>

I'm not a nasty person. I don't hate the boss, I'm scared of him a lot of the time, but I don't hate him. But I just couldn't resist doing what I did next. I ran back to the door, opened and shut it and did my best Belarussian accent "Brother..." and scampered into the next cubicle. I stuck my head under and saw that he was somehow perched on the toilet seat with his feet tucked up. He was also shivering violently (I could hear his teeth chattering). I felt a bit bad then and almost opened the cubicle door and gave him a hug. Except I was only covered in a towel and a badly fitting swimming costume.

Katya came in anyway and must have seen the purple aura floating above his cubicle (how does the boss do that?) and shouted "Vanya, what on earth do you think you're doing?" I reckon she must say this at least once a day.

I think he fell off the toilet then and opened the door. There must have been some women coming in after Katya because there was some shrieking. I couldn't help peering around the door and saw the boss, his face was bright red and he kept mumbling "Sorry, ladies!" in that high-pitched sing-song voice of his as he shot out of the changing room door. Hilarious.

* * *

><p>When I finally stopped laughing and got changed, all the while, Katya telling me that the boss was just "sad and lonely and needed someone in his life to make him feel loved" (I said he had Russi-cat to do that, but she just sighed and looked at me meaningfully), I managed to escape back to my room.<p>

I stopped on the way because I ran into Hungary and Belgium who were sat in an alcove with cocktails giggling over some sketchpads. Hungary introduced me to Belgium and they both looked me up and down. I understand now why Gil calls Hungary 'ballbuster' or 'ballbreaker' now, she is very scary.

It looked as if they were both sizing me up, then I realised that they thought I was a male Nation. Belgium said, "Hmmm, cute!" which scared me even more.

They must have seen how scared I was because Hungary said, "Aw, he's only a boy. He can be our little pet..."

Again, I'm so glad sometimes that I'm one of Russia's little Baltics, because I pointed out that I was one of Russia's 'pets'.

I should really have done a runner there and then, as they looked me up and down, trying to decided if I was gay or not, but I was curious and I asked them what was in the sketchpad. I really wish I hadn't. The images will never leave my mind if I live to be as old as Mr China.

Somebody – they said it was Kiku, however, I can't reconcile that small, nondescript, shy man with someone who would draw things like this – had produced a sketchpad full of various male Nations in states of undress doing things with one another. I have no idea if they were anatomically correct. Some of them were quite startling. I really hope the dimensions weren't correct or somebody was going to be in for a world of pain. I was told, quite strictly by Hungary, to keep my mouth shut "if I knew what was good for me". So I took myself off to my room.

I'd got myself quite comfortable. Feet up on the bed, television on and helping myself to vodka and peanuts out of the minibar – hopefully the boss' government will pay for all this (the boss' minibar bill will be massive anyway) and then there was a knock on the door. I decided to ignore it. It was probably some nutcase, either Gil trying to drag me out 'on the pull' or Katya having problems with one of her bras. It was neither, however, it was a nutcase, the chief nutcase himself – I could tell because I could hear the scrape of metal and a frantic whisper, "Latvia, open the door... or Mr Pipe will open it."

So, I pulled the hotel towelling robe around me (it was one of those posh hotels where you get a free robe – Hotel Majestic – I'm taking mine home with me) and opened the door before there was a Russia-shaped hole in the bedroom door.

The boss hurried in, slammed the door shut and barricaded it with a chair. He looked quite breathless and red – he'd obviously been running from Belarus this whole time. He gave me a big hug (I always keep my arms across my chest when he does this – just so he can't feel my boobs through my clothes – although he wears so many layers I could be built like Katya and I doubt he'd notice) and then threw himself onto my bed, patted the area next to him to indicate that I was to sit with him and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

After seeing some of those pictures that Hungary and Belgium had in their possession (they called them 'yaoi' or something), I felt some trepidation sitting on the bed next to him, especially as one of them featured the boss with – bizarrely - Mr America. I really hoped that Mr Japan had exaggerated the erm... proportions.

It felt very weird sitting on a bed with a man... apart from that time when he'd burst into my room and started knitting. I was almost crapping myself. Mr Russia has a very powerful presence and every time I tried to inch away he would move closer. But I don't think he realises how creepy he is. He just kept talking about how creepy his little sister is whilst proceeding to empty the contents of the mini fridge.

I didn't think vodka and coke with a dash of gin, whisky and rum would be very good, but I didn't like to say anything.

He kept patting my head, in what he thinks is an affectionate way, but creeps me out a bit. The problem is that he's so big and I feel tiny in comparison. He then took over the remote control and flicked through the channels. We both spluttered on our drinks when a porn channel came up. However, Mr Russia was clearly as embarrassed as me – he went crimson and switched over quickly. I shouldn't really have had anything to drink, but I was hoping it would steady my nerves and at least stop me from shaking.

As it turned out, just as my head was going dizzy, Mr Russia rolled over and fell asleep, with his coat, scarf and boots on and all. Dear Diary, I was very very drunk, so I can only say that this will excuse what I did next. (I hope nobody ever finds this diary.)

I waited until he was snoring (it sounds like a chainsaw) and I leaned over, very carefully lifted up his long winter coat to have a sneaky peek at his arse. Well, I mean he obviously still had his trousers on but I have to say he has rather a nice arse – firm, well-rounded, not as pert as Spain's, but I was pleasantly surprised. I then hurriedly put his coat back around him (he snorted a bit and mumbled something to do with China – certainly Asia or something) and then I decided to go sleep in the bathroom. I certainly was not going to fall asleep on the bed with him.

* * *

><p>I wrote down all the above at 2.00 am while sitting in an empty bath with a blanket wrapped around me. I finally got some sleep around 4.00 am.<p>

However, I was then woken at 6.30 am by the boss stumbling in. I heard the sound of a belt and zipper and... then he realised I was there and we both screamed. Oh thank God I didn't get to see anything. How embarrassing would that have been?

I jumped out of the bath and hurried out, I'm sure my face was absolutely burning. And then I had to run back in... to pick up this diary. Dear God, if he'd read this... The boss had to quickly zip his zipper up _again _then... and I still didn't get to see anything... not that I wanted to, of course.

I tried to get dressed then, but every-time I started to take off the hotel robe, Mr Russia would bob out of the bathroom to tell me something – three times he hurried back out to tell me not to unlock the door in case his sister was camped outside. He then shuffled back in and said he was having a shower. I waited until I heard the water running before I got dressed, just in case.

I was sorely tempted to pop into the bathroom on the pretext of telling him his sister was trying to get in... But I didn't.

Anyway, there was a knock on the door before I could even go down that particular route... I looked through the peephole – why didn't I think of that last night? But couldn't see anyone. But the knocking persisted but I still couldn't see anyone. So I opened the door and was about to yell "Oh very funny, Gil..." but it was Peter – he was too short to see.

He came charging in, just like that, laughing his head off about an awesome prank he had planned and I needed to help him.

Then the bathroom door opened and Mr Russia – just in his shirt-sleeves, trousers (obviously), but no boots, socks (but wearing that bloody scarf – did he shower with it, I wonder) and wet hair – told me off for opening the door "in case it was Belarus". I pointed out that it wasn't Belarus and just Peter. He ignored me and slammed the door shut.

Peter's eyes were wide as saucers and his mouth dropped open. He just jabbered something stupid and then took off.

* * *

><p>I am a bit slow today, Diary, so I didn't understand why he ran off with a shocked look on his face. I just got dressed quickly before Russia could come back out – he did just as I was doing up my tunic. He was still drying his hair – it was all stuck up like Denmark's – so he didn't notice anything, as I've said, I'm convinced I could have been swanning around in lacy underwear and he wouldn't blink.<p>

I pointed out that there was a hair dryer, but he looked at me as if I'd suggested he go the whole hog and wear Pol's mini-skirt and make-up.

So, because I was half asleep I had no idea what all the fuss was about when I opened the door and Katya, Toris and Ed were stood outside. Katya was grinning maniacally, Toris looked half asleep but very worried, whilst Ed just looked annoyed.

Katya dragged me outside and slammed the door shut and flung her arms around me. "Oooh, I'm so pleased!"

I had no idea what she meant – it hadn't dawned on me what Sealand must have said.

"I knew he'd find love with you!" Katya said and then, the penny dropped.

They thought that the boss and I had... Toris looked positively scared and kept looking me up and down as if I had something wrong with me. Ed still looked annoyed.

"Nooooooooo" That must have been the longest no in the history of 'no'.

Katya looked severely disappointed, "You didn't spend the night with him?" she asked me.

As I was shaking my head so hard it nearly came off, Mr Russia came out to see what the noise about, heard Katya's last statement and said, with a frown, that we did "spend the night together".

I almost fainted, Toris almost fainted, Ed looked even more annoyed and looked as if he were going to get his wallet out (he was in his pyjamas – they all were – but why he had his wallet in his pyjama pocket I don't know) and Katya looked as if she were going to start dancing around.

"No, we didn't!" I yelled, sounding like Gil.

"Da, we did spend the night together. I came into little Latvia's room because Belarus was hiding in mine and then I slept on Raivis' bed." Russia, despite being 1000 years old didn't seem to have a clue as to the connotations of that last remark. I would have smacked him but he would have punched me through a wall, so I didn't.

Katya was beside herself, "Oooh that's so lovely!" she said. Russia gave her a funny look and just stared – in that awful creepy way he does. I wonder sometimes if his brain goes on stand-by.

"No, it's not!" I said.

But Katya just carried on, "Oh Vanya, you'll be able to have babies now!"

Russia looked very confused and seemed to 'come back into the moment' and said, "I don't understand, sestra, how will I have babies?"

I was still shaking my head frantically at Toris and Ed to try to get them to realise that 'no, I had not spent the night having wild sex with Mr Russia'.

Katya shook her head, "Vanya, I'll explain it to you, later..." but Ed whispered something in her ear and then she burst into hysterical laughter.

Russia still looked confused and then angry because I think he thought she was laughing at him. Which she was.

I really think someone should take him to one side and explain everything to him – not my gender though, dear Lord – but about sex, because he still looked clueless.

Anyway, Toris, who always knows what to do in these situations, steered the boss away to go and get some breakfast. The mention of food cheered him up, I think, and he toddled off after Toris quite happily like a big kid. Then, Katya and I had the following conversation:

"So you didn't sleep with him?"

"No."

"Not at all?"

"No."

"No sex at all?"

"No."

"Not even a bit?"

I have no idea what she means by 'a bit'. But I still said 'no'. Katya stomped off looking rather annoyed and deflated. I hurried to find Peter to make sure he wasn't going to tell anybody else that I had spent the night with Mr Russia, well, I had, but not in that way.

* * *

><p>I did catch up with him and told him that there was no way in hell that I had slept with Mr Russia. He was 'busy' putting notes under all the Nations' doors. At first I ignored this and just kept trying to tell him that I'd spent the night in the bathroom. He said 'sure' and told me that he wouldn't tell anyone. I told him that there wasn't anything to tell...<p>

Finally, I asked him about his 'awesome prank'. He'd written a load of notes – some had written on them 'I know your secret' and some said 'I know what you did last night' and he was sliding them under all the doors.

I do not believe that the Nations will be stupid enough to fall for it.

* * *

><p>Evidently, I was wrong. They are stupid enough to fall for it. Later that morning there was a big meeting, Peter and I were hidden under the table and the Nations all trooped in. There was a lot of muttering and some shuffling and glaring at each other.<p>

Then Mr America burst out with "You lot don't know nothing!"

Mr England corrected him, "Alfred that's a double negative, it's you don't know anything or you know nothing. I brought you up better than that."

"Did you send this note, Arty dude?"

"No, I did not, why would I do something so ridiculous as send you a note?"

And then all bedlam broke out. There were accusations flying around the table. About who had said what and who had done what. Some of the Nations were far more laid back – Mr Spain looked as if he'd barely moved a muscle and was smiling idiotically, a tall, blond guy with sticky-up hair like Den's and wearing a scarf was puffing a pipe and just smiling and Mr Greece was asleep. Mr Russia's purple haze was pulsating around him (how does he do that?) and he was strangely silent which was usually a bad sign.

Peter was absolutely beside himself laughing.

What happened next I'm not really sure, pandemonium did break out and the Swiss Security Services had to be called in. We (me, Toris, Ed, Katya, Miss Belarus and Mr Russia) were escorted onto our flight by nervous armed guard.

I think I can pinpoint when it all kicked off. Mr France suddenly jumped onto the table and started to divest himself of his clothing.

"I 'ave no secrets! I will bare all to ze world!" he shouted.

That was it – I think Mr France's stripping habits will one day cause a world war, or at the very least a small regional war. All hell broke loose. Anyone would think someone had set a bomb off. Someone (I never found out who) tackled Mr France to the ground and someone else tried to get his pants back on him. Then the boss, who obviously did not appreciate the sight of Mr France's 'equipment' – perhaps twice in two days was enough (I personally think it was enough for anybody) started to kolkol, especially when somebody made the mistake of asking him if he had any 'secrets' or 'what he did last night'.

Peter whispered to me "I wonder what secrets Mr Russia has?" with wide eyes.

I just shook my head as metal pipe met soft flesh and soft furnishings and the table above our heads was splintered in two. The bodies piled up, gunshots were fired, lots of 'mein gotts', 'vee, Germany', 'fuck yeah, man' and 'dear Lord' and the next thing I knew we were on the flight back to Leningrad. C'est la vie, Mr France would say.

* * *

><p>So, the flight back to Leningrad was quite uneventful. Mr Russia sat on his own, growling and kolkolling. Nobody dared go near him, even Belarus kept away. I managed to sit next to Toris and I asked him if he'd got one of those 'notes'. He said he had and then whispered to me.<p>

"Can you keep a secret, Raivis?"

I said of course I could, after all, he kept my secret so well, he could trust me.

And then he told me that when he and Pol had been married, neither of them had ever signed the divorce papers, so technically they were still married.

I'm sorry, Diary, but I totally squealed, which made Mr Russia turn around and snarl at me. I reassured Toris that nobody would ever know his secret and I bet that whoever sent that note did not know either.

I didn't dare ask what Belarus' secret was, I bet it involved dead bodies or something awful. I can guess Katya's – I've seen the way she 'accidentally' lets one of her boobs escape. Mr Russia's secret would be awesome. I spent a good deal of the flight trying to guess. Pink tutus? An illicit affair with Mr China? A secret desire to be a romantic novelist?

As it happened, I shifted seats and sat behind him when Katya went and sat beside him. Belarus growled at this, but Russia growled back at her. His growls are bigger and she looked hungover and tired so I think she decided she just couldn't be bothered. Besides Toris was distracting her by telling her how beautiful she looked.

This is the whispered conversation I heard:

"Sis, did you get one of those notes?"

"Da, Vanya, I did. Ignore it. It was just a prank."

(Katya is so clever...)

"I know, but suppose..."

"Little brother, what's wrong? Come on, you can tell your big sis anything."

Hahaha, I nearly laughed out loud – 'little' brother, Katya kills me sometimes. But I wanted to hear this. This had to be good, the boss looked seriously worried.

"I've done something you told me I should never do."

Dear Lord, this could be anything... I was scared to hear this, but also intrigued. I started shivering violently and had to hang on to my armrest.

Katya was obviously uncomfortable and she looked around and then whispered, "What's wrong, Vanya? Tell me..."

"You'll be shocked, big sis. Don't tell me off."

"Just spit it out, Vanya..."

I could tell Katya was also scared, worried and... interested – she leaned in and had that weird look in her eyes (I bet whatever it is she'll be telling Pol).

"I... I... started knitting a jumper without a pattern..."

I snorted... oh this was hilarious and then I had to pretend to be asleep and snoring when the boss and Katya looked around.

Katya was laughing so hard, I thought she was going to have a hernia. The boss ignored her, folded his arms and stared out of the window, humming to himself.

"Is that it?" Katya only just managed to get out. Honestly, she was doubled up.

"Well, sis..." the boss looked very annoyed that Katya was laughing. "It could go all wrong, I think one sleeve is longer than the other. It must be about that mustn't it? Unless... no-one knows about what I did that night Comrade Stalin died... so it must be about the jumper..."

Me and Katya stopped sniggering then ... did he just say what I thought he said?

Katya didn't have time to ask him, because he pulled the offending knitting out and showed it to her with a look on his face like an errant schoolboy.

I am in the presence of pure insanity, but can't wait for the next world meeting...

* * *

><p>Epilogue<p>

_These are transcribed telephone calls picked up by the KGB from the hotel where the nations stayed. The KGB are keeping these on permanent record __so they have something to laugh at __so as to prove that although there were a large number of telephone calls recorded between the hours of 9:00 to 10:00 involving contact between nations, none of these were to threaten the Soviet Union in any way. Just doing our job here. Totally._

"Dude!" Denmark

"Yo, dude Den, my main man! What's hangin' over there, bro?" Prussia

"It's not good, man..." D

"Wassup, dude?" P

"Didn't ya get one of those notes, kid?" D

"What notes?" P

"Look under your door, dude." D

"What do you mean... oh. Is that... do you think they mean...?" P

"_Ja_." D

"_Scheiße_! How did they find out?" P

"I dunno, man..." D

"We gotta dispose of the evidence, bro. I can't live the rest of my life knowing that some geezer knows I'm part of a crocheting group." P

"With a bunch of Russian grannies, too." D

"You're making it worse." P

"Sorry, dude. But we can't dispose of twelve Russian grandmothers." D

"They'd be more likely to dispose of _us_." P

"Yer damn right there, bro." D

"So that idea's out..." P

"So what do we do?" D

"If this is a genuine blackmail eventually they'll send us demands to comply with..." P

"And?" D

"We'll comply with the demands." P

"But what if they tell me to get rid of my beer?" D

"Good point. OK, we need a plan B." P

"Like what?" D

"If they send demands we can't comply with, you come and break me outta Braginski's house and we'll go on the run together." P

"Seems a bit extreme..." D

"Would you rather have someone find out you crochet things with Russian grandmothers on Wednesday afternoons, rather than having drunken orgies with prostitutes like you've told Tino and Ber you do? Think it through, dude." P

"...Alright. I'll talk to you later, man." D

"Love ya, Den." P

* * *

><p>"Liz? Is that you?" Belgium<p>

"Yes, hi Lou. What's up?" Hungary

"A lot of things, actually..." B

"Like what? Tell me and I'll hit it with my frying pan." H

"I got a note saying somebody knows what I did last night. I'm quite worried." B

"Why, what did you do last night?" H

"Well, I went out and bought some sketchpads and pens-" B

"Really? I never knew you drew!" H

"That's the problem, I don't. I was buying them for Japan, so he can draw some more yaoi for me. And then I beat Netherlands at pool, but somehow I don't think the person who wrote the note cares about that. It wasn't particularly noteworthy, anyway. I always beat him." B

"Good on you, girl! Austria's rubbish at pool. He's panicking right now, because someone sent him a note saying they know his secret and he thinks someone found out he doesn't need his glasses. Moron." H

"Austria doesn't need his glasses? Huh." B

"Yeah, he's got perfect vision. He just thinks they make him look more intelligent. I guess they do. Anyway, he's slamming around our hotel room right now because I got a note, too, and he isn't very happy with what my secret might be." H

"What is your secret, if you don't mind me asking?" B

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you. I've told you most things, anyway. I... I slept with Ivan, during the Hungarian uprising against the Soviet Union. He was supposed to punish me, but he chickened out when he saw my frying pan... and we got drunk..." H

"Well, that's a lot more juicy than my secret. You'll have to tell me all the details later, when Austria's not playing the drums or whatever it is he's doing." B

"No drums, just Austria taking out his frustration on the wardrobe. Bloody fool. I just hope he doesn't find all that yaoi I've bought from Japan of him and Switzerland, or he might blow a fuse." H

"Hey, come by my hotel room – it's room 143 on the first floor. I want to hear all the deets about you and Ivan." B

"Yeah, alright, couldn't hurt. I'll see you in a minute." H

* * *

><p>"Hey, Lud, you got a minute?" Netherlands<p>

"_Hallo_, Hans... look, this really isn't a great time. Make it quick, I've got to get home." Germany

"Why?" N

"I have serious business to take care of. My porn collection just might be in jeopardy." G

"Ah, man, that sucks. You got a note too?" N

"_Ja_." G

"I got one saying somebody knows what I did last night. My little sister beat me at pool. Sucks, doesn't it? What d'you think I should do." N

"Work on your pool skills, Hans. _Ja_. I have to go." G

"Oh, okay. Bye." N

* * *

><p>"Ah, my dear leetle Arthur, it eez me... ah yes." France<p>

"What the bloody hell do you want?" England

"Do not be like that, my leetle flower..." F

"I'm not your bloody flower. Good God. Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?" E

"But eet eez 9:30, _Angleterre_..." F

"What...? Oh yes, so it is..." E

"Ah, _oui_. But Arthur, I am troubled..." F

"Bloody good." E

"I got a note saying somebody knows my secret... What do zey mean? I have no secrets! I am ze great nation of _La France_, and I have nothing to hide! I will happily bare all, before ze whole world! Ah yes..." F

"Please don't." E

"Did you get ze note as well, _Angleterre_? I bet you have lots of secrets, like how you secretly love me, ah yes!" F

"Not that it's any of your bloody business, but yes, I did get a note. I'm a little worried about it actually." E

"Ah, silly leetle _Angleterre_, always worrying about nothing. I zink eet eez a prank by some silly children. Ah _oui_." F

"But what if it's not? What if somebody knows that... that..." E

"Go on..." F

"That I'm not the chivalrous gentleman everybody thinks I am?" E

"I... I knew eet! Eets all a lie! You are a animal, _Angleterre_! ...Aren't you?" F

"...No. But I did take a girl out on a date a while ago and-" E

"You went on a date with _une femme_? Oh, _Angleterre_, I did not think you had it in you! I may faint!" F

"Let me finish, you bloody frog! So anyway, I was on a date with this girl, and I... well... I..." E

"Spit it out, _Angleterre..._" F

"I didn't open the restaurant door for her. I'm convinced that's why she didn't call me back." E

"_Non, non, _zat is silly. She did not call you back because she sensed that you should _coucher avec moi, _once again! Ah, yes..." F

"...I'm going to hang up now." E

"_Au revior, mon amour! _Oh, he's gone..." F

* * *

><p>"<em>Bror<em>? I need to speak to you. It's urgent." Iceland

"I was sleeping." Norway

"Sorry. But I think somebody found out that I've been sending lilies to... er... Lily." I

"So?" N

"What do you think I should do?" I

"Help me sell Denmark. I can't cope with him anymore." N

"I... don't think that's legal, Nor..." I

"No, no, I went around some auction houses last night and asked about it. I got a note saying someone knows what I did last night, but frankly I couldn't care less. I hope they advertise it." N

"He is annoying, but I don't think selling him is the answer..." I

"If you say so. I'm going back to sleep." N

"...Nor? Nor? Oh, he's asleep. Well, bye, then..." I

* * *

><p>"<em>Hola<em>!" Spain

"Fuck off, tomato bastard. It's too early in the morning." Romano

"It's never too early for love like ours!" S

"I don't love you, you idiot. Go back to sleep." R

"Silly Roma. I've been up all night..." S

"What on earth for?" R

"Well you see Francis has quite some stamina. I'm all worn out after the night I had. First the note, then that? Whoa..." S

"You did _that_ with _him_ and you still think it's okay to say you love me?" R

"_Si_." S

"Bastard." R

"Oh, don't be like that, Roma! I looooove you." S

"You're drunk, aren't you?" R

"_Si_." S

"Dammit. So you got a note, too? What did yours say?" R

"Apparently I have a secret. Greece thinks somebody found out that we gamble together..." S

"For money?" R

"_Si_." S

"Stupid bastard, no wonder your economy's going down the drain." R

"So why didn't I see you last night, Roma?" S

"OK, fine. I feel like I have to tell somebody and I may as well tell you, but if you tell anybody else I will rip your head off and shove it up your glorious arse. _Si_?" R

"Ah, Roma, I love it when you talk dirty to me..." S

"That's it, I'm hanging up..." R

"Wait! I still don't know where you were last night!" S

"...Fine. I was on a date with Belarus and we watched a romantic comedy. It made her cry at the end." R

"You mean she went into your room looking for her brother and got drunk and fell asleep on your bed?" S

"I could have been on a date with her..."R

"I bet you cried with her, didn't you? You're always so emotional, little Roma, you're so cute." S

"I'm not!" R

"_Si_, you are..." S

"Go to Hell!" R

"...Roma?" S

* * *

><p>"Yo, Italy!" America<p>

"_Ciao, _America!" Italy

"So what's goin' on with these notes, dude? I heard you got one, too!" A

"I don't know, _Signore _America, but I didn't sleep!" I

"Ah man, that sucks! Why, what did your note say?" A

"Somebody knows my secret, America! What should I do?" I

"Depends. What's your secret, dude?" A

"Oh, I'm so ashamed!" I

"Yeah, yeah... c'mon, what is it?" A

"I... I lied to Luddy!" I

"Oooh..." A

"_Si_! He wanted the pasta so I made the pasta but we were out of my special homemade sauce... _si, _the kind my mama taught me to make, and I was too lazy to make some more, so I used the supermarket sauce instead and told him I made it by hand..." I

"Dude. That's nothing. I use supermarket pasta sauce all the time." A

"_Si_, but you are American." I

"What's that supposed to mean?" A

"Nothing~! So, did you get a note as well?" I

"Yeah, man. Something about knowing what I did last night." A

"What did you do last night, America?" I

"Not much, dude. I mean, like, went out with my dudes and then we got kicked out of a bar and I came back here, drank all the stuff in the minibar, danced around a bit, and then I guess I passed out... Oh and ..." A

"Si?" I

"...I ate too many hamburgers... Arty dude was right..." A

"_Si_, I can imagine..." I

"So yeah, that was it." A

"Ah, okay, then. Oh, I think Luddy's here. _Arrivederci, _America!" I

"Like, bye, dude!" A

* * *

><p>"Hello, Vash Zwingli speaking?" Switzerland<p>

"So it's you." Austria

"What?" S

"It's you who's been calling me!" A

"Oh, that. Yeah." S

"Two years, Vash. _Two years_ you've been calling me pretending to be some obsessed stalker who's madly in love with me. Unless of course you're not pretending..." A

"Of course I'm pretending. Who'd love _you_?" S

"Oh, shut up. Just stop calling me. You know how much sleep I've lost over that?" A

"No, but I can imagine. Idiot. I can't believe you fell for that." S

"Oh, shut up." A

"Who told you, anyway?" S

"Well, after you called me yesterday, I decided to ring the hotel desk and track all the incoming call numbers to this phone. It wasn't easy, but I finally picked up the courage to call my stalker... and it's you." A

"And there I was thinking you'd figured it out by yourself. I guess I overestimated you." S

"Whatever. Well, at least now I know what your secret is." A

"What?" S

"Lily told me you got a note saying you have a secret. By the way, she got one too and, when you're out doing your three hour daily target practise – really Vash, three hours? Don't you think that's excessive? – she bins the cheap shitty cheese you buy, runs to the shop, buys expensive cheese using _your money _and wraps it in the cheap cheese's packaging so you won't notice." A

"Whaaaaaaaaaa-" S

"Goodbye, Vash." A

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

So which is your favourite secret?

PM/Comment/Review...


	21. Survival Part I

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd: **

**Fear My Awesomeness, Mr , Simonana, peppermint twertle, Beelzineff, Celtic Nasthca, NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, Weap, Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Warnings: lots of swearing, stupidity, silliness, Prussia...**

**Chapter 21 – Survival Part One**

Estonia was laid prone on the sofa, a hand on his head, a blanket covering him, "Oooooh," he groaned.

"The poor dear, he obviously is too ill to go anywhere," Ukraine said and promptly laid a hand on his head, "He's burning up!"

Russia frowned, "Poor Ed... he will miss all the fun!" he chirruped and then disappeared back up the stairs to continue packing.

"You clever bugger..." Latvia said.

"Yeah, man... how did you do it? You don't look so ill to me!" Prussia agreed.

Estonia just groaned.

"You can't fake a fever!" Ukraine informed them.

Latvia was about to disagree with this, when she heard her boss shout her from upstairs, "Latviaaaa! Come and catch these..."

She went to the bottom of the stairs and was buried by several backpacks thrown down by Russia.

"Toriiiiiis!" Russia called.

"Yes, Sir?" Toris appeared from the kitchen, an apron around his waist, his hair tied back.

"Did you get some food sorted out?" Russia called down.

"Yes, Sir..." he called back and then added to Latvia, "With plenty of vodka and cookies."

"Toris, how has Estonia gotten away with it again?" Latvia asked.

"It's not fucking fair... I'm not well either... I want to stay with Miss Big Boobs," Prussia protested.

"I know... we all do..." Latvia said, patting the Prussian on the arm, although she winced at the name 'Miss Big Boobs'.

"Kesese! Little Latvia big balls is finally growing his balls!"

Russia bounded down the stairs, "This trip is going to be great fun... my two favourite little Baltics... and you, Gilbert..." he added with a creepy grin on his face. He had the look of an overgrown schoolboy.

They all groaned.

Then a sweet, chilling voice broke in, "It will be great fun, brother... just you, me and all of nature to explore..."

Russia, Lithuania, Latvia and even Prussia, all jumped in alarm. Latvia and Prussia both screamed (the latter Nation almost jumping into Latvia's arms).

"Sestra... I didn't know you were coming. The KGB just said that I was supposed to do this survival course and my little Baltics and Gilbert could come with me..." Russia said with trepidation.

"Yes, but dear brother, that nice KGB General said that I could go as well..." Belarus said with a horrid smile, forgetting to add that the 'nice KGB General' had had a knife pressed against his throat.

* * *

><p>Two weeks earlier had seen Russia, Lithuania, Latvia, Prussia and even Estonia at the local military training centre and in a place that Estonia thought he would never ever be – a gym.<p>

They were having their fitness assessed. Estonia was confident that he would fail. He whispered to Latvia and told her to do as he did, so that she would fail and not have to go on the ridiculous survival training course with their boss.

However, it didn't quite go according to plan. Estonia's plan was sound – he puffed and panted on the rowing machine, fell off the treadmill and collapsed when asked to lift just 10 kg of weight. He sat back on the bench, wiping the sweat from his brow, confident that there was no way he could be deemed fit for this ridiculous survival course.

What he hadn't bargained on was the competitiveness between Prussia and Latvia.

"Kesese! Little Latvia's such a big girl!" the Prussian had laughed as Latvia tried to match him in bench-pressing 30 kg.

"I hate you, Gil," she puffed and then proceeded to outrun him on the treadmill.

Lithuania literally strolled through all the fitness tests, barely breaking sweat.

Russia himself broke one of the treadmills – the machine unable to cope with his huge pounding weight running at full pelt. He then bench-pressed his own weight and with Gilbert balanced on top, threw the weight down almost breaking the floor and jumped on the rowing machine.

It was only when the KGB instructor realised that Russia had got the machine on the highest setting and was almost bouncing it across the floor, that they called a halt to proceedings before he broke that piece of apparatus as well. Russia ran his fingers through his hair, took another gulp from his 'water' bottle and then jumped on the cross-trainer. This machine whirred and moaned until some bright spark pulled the plug on it.

Latvia managed to run the requisite 10 miles without stopping, but almost fell off when she foolishly took a gulp from her boss' water bottle and found ... it was vodka.

"Vodka is my fuel, da?" Russia told her and then proceeded to knock seven bells out of a punch-bag. (Lithuania led him away when the stuffing started to come out.)

"Kesese! Puffy little Latvia..." Prussia panted on the treadmill next to her and proceeded to peel off his 'muscle' vest to reveal... a very milky-white chest with stringy muscles.

"Where's ... your... six-pack?" Latvia panted, "More... like ... a... three pack eh?"

"Fuck off, Latvia big balls. Take your shirt off and let's see your rock hard pecs then!"

Latvia ignored him and was pleased when the KGB instructor deemed her extremely fit and Prussia 'passable but needs to improve'.

"You shouldn't smoke!" Latvia told him.

"Fuck off! I'm in brilliant shape for someone who's 600 years old!"

Actually, they wouldn't have been so quick or eager to complete the fitness test at all if they'd known what Estonia knew.

"So we've all passed, now we can go to Siberia!" Russia had chirruped happily, and then added sadly, "Apart from Estonia..."

Estonia affected a look of disappointment, Lithuania shook his head.

"...But you can come anyway! It will be such fun, you should not miss out!" Russia had added.

* * *

><p>So that's why the Baltics (without clever Estonia) and Prussia found themselves preparing for a week's survival course in Siberia, in February, with their boss. Russia was over-exuberant, Latvia pensive, Lithuania (who'd been on more of these than Latvia had had hot dinners) was calm, Prussia was indignant. Now, with the added ingredient of Belarus, everyone, without exception, was scared.<p>

However, Russia (who wasn't quite as childishly daft as he looked) had a plan...

* * *

><p>The aeroplane dipped and then began to climb high above the Siberian wilderness. The passengers were all ready – backpacks on, parachutes checked and harnesses clipped (Russia had had to be told several times that, yes, he <em>did <em>have to wear a parachute and that the snow would not cushion him).

The KGB officer with them had briefed them extensively. They were to be dropped 100 miles from their target base, they had a week to get there. Some provisions, weapons, a tent and sleeping bags. Russia had stated that the last time he'd done this, he and Toris had been dropped with nothing but a compass and a knife each.

Latvia had giggled, "... and clothes of course..." she'd said, but had seen Toris shaking his head at her, her eyes had widened and she'd shut up quickly.

They all stood up near to the hatch, Russia motioned to his little sister, "You go first, Natalya and we'll see you down there," he told her.

The KGB officer frowned, "But, Sir... the order here is..." He was silenced by a growl.

"Oh big brother... we will be together in the wilderness. You can keep me warm tonight, I will need no sleeping bag..."

Russia said nothing to this but just nodded her to the hatch door.

The KGB officer opened the hatch and Belarus, after blowing a kiss at her brother (Lithuania wincing a little), jumped out, shouting "Brother!" as she went.

They all watched as her parachute opened and Latvia (who was supposed to be second in line) stepped forward. Russia shook his head, indicated that the KGB man was to close the hatch and they flew on for another twenty minutes.

"Clever bugger..." Gil muttered.

Toris just sighed; quite dramatically, Latvia thought.

* * *

><p>They finally leapt out some hundred or so miles from their original 'drop point', no-one asked why.<p>

Russia landed first and had already gathered his parachute and was getting his bearings when Latvia and Lithuania found him, Prussia landed in what was probably the only anthill in the central Siberian Plain.

"Fucking hate this country," he was muttering angrily as he strode up some half an hour later, scratching his head, back and buttocks all at once, dragging his parachute behind him.

Thankfully, Russia didn't hear him. The big Arctic Nation was in his element and was poring over a map and working out how many miles they needed to march each day in order to reach their 'target'.

* * *

><p>30 tortuous miles later, after a quick march over the frozen ground, Latvia and Prussia who took up the rear and had spent the last two hours berating each other for their equal lack of fitness, Russia called a halt. Lithuania was barely out of breath. Russia had set the pace – quiet a fast one, but had decided to stop when his vodka bottle was finally empty. He snapped his fingers at Toris. "Make a fire, Toris, and get some food ready."<p>

He then turned to Latvia and Prussia, "You two..." he began, just as Prussia flung himself to the ground, throwing his backpack down at the same time and lighting a cigarette, "... Put the tents up."

Latvia was about to argue and ask him what he was going to do, when Russia threw his own bag down, hoisted a gun over his shoulder and pulled out his hunting knife.

"Eeek, okay," she squeaked.

Russia shrugged and strode off into the forest to find a nice fat rabbit or other small furry animal to eat.

It took an hour for the combined, incompetent efforts of Latvia and Prussia to finally get one tent erect (Prussia kesesed at this word).

In that time, Toris had 'erected' the other tent, lit a fire, made some sort of bean stew from several packets, melted some snow for water and unfurled a large red banner which he put on top the tent pole so Russia (and Belarus, he hoped) could find them again.

"It's leaning to the right..."

"It's fucking supposed to, Raivis. Shurrup."

"You're useless, you are. Tents aren't supposed to lean."

"You fucking do it, then."

"You should stop smoking."

"Sod off."

"There's daylight in the middle of the canvas."

"It's ventilation."

"It'll be cold, snow will get through."

"It's fucking cold anyway in this fucking country."

"Stop swearing."

"My life sucks."

"Gilbert!" Toris finally exploded, "Your life will suck even more, in fact it will end, if you do not get that tent up properly before the boss gets back. And Latvia, stop arguing with him, it's like trying to pin a jelly to a wall..."

Latvia sighed. It was really the only thing that was enjoyable in this whole trip – being able to wind up Gilbert.

* * *

><p>Darkness had started to fall by the time the second tent had been properly erected and the three Nations sat eating bean stew.<p>

"I wonder where Mr Russia is?" Latvia asked, peering into the gloom around them. There were tall larches to the left stretching out into a dark forbidding looking forest into which Russia had disappeared, to the right was just a long expanse of snow and... nothing else. No other sound or sight of human habitation.

"Hunting... he likes his meat," Lithuania answered, stirring the pot.

"Hope a bloody great bear gets him," Prussia said, whilst rolling a cigarette.

"That's not nice!" Latvia said, appalled.

"He's not fucking nice..."

"Stop swearing."

"Will you two just shut up? You're like a pair of kids," Toris said, waving a spoon at them.

He was relieved when Russia came out of the forest, dragging the carcass of a wild boar behind him. He threw the body at Toris, "Roast that, Toris, while I punch Gilbert," he said matter-of-factly.

Actually, Russia didn't punch Gilbert, but he did eat almost the whole boar – once Toris had roasted it, Toris and Gilbert taking a leg each, Latvia, being the smallest and, like a cub in a pride of lions, ate the leftover morsels. And then it was time for bed...

"Sleeping Gilbert..." came a high, chirruping voice from one of the tents.

"Shut up you fat... ow... get off me..."

"You are cold, little Gilbert... cuddle up with Uncle Russia..."

"Nein!"

There was the sound of a smack.

"Ow! What you hit me for you big...?"

"I do not like German, da?"

The tent then suddenly exploded outwards as the Prussian stumbled out, still zipped in his sleeping bag and then fell into Latvia and Lithuania's tent.

"Big perv wanted me to sleep with him!" Prussia practically squeaked.

"He's just trying to keep you warm, Gilbert," Toris said, in an attempt to reassure the silver-haired man, who was now crawling over them like a caterpillar.

"Piss off. I ain't sleeping with him... Let little Latvia with the big balls go in there."

"Where's my little Kaliningrad gone?" came a chirrupy voice from the other tent.

Latvia covered her ears and snuggled further down in her sleeping bag.

"There isn't room in here for three, Gilbert," Toris told him as said ex-Nation snuggled down between him and Latvia, shoving the smaller Baltic out of the way.

"Then you go in there with idiot features," Gilbert said.

To be honest, in the other tent, Russia had happily spread out like a giant starfish, his huge feet sticking out of the tent-flap. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about. It was 'only' minus ten degrees, what was the problem? He hadn't even bothered to crawl into his sleeping bag. However, he understood that the smaller Nations might feel the cold more than him.

Toris sighed, knowing he couldn't ask Latvia to share with Russia and besides the big Nation's body warmth was like a furnace, unzipped his bag and prepared to leave the tent.

"Don't leave me with _him" _Latvia yelped and pointed at Gilbert.

"Hey! I ain't gay like Toris!" Gilbert protested.

That was precisely Latvia's problem.

"You stay here... if he tries anything me and Mr Russia will be here in a moment," Toris whispered.

"Fuck off! I like women... and boobs," Gilbert muttered from the depths of his sleeping bag.

"Yes, but they don't like you, do they?" Latvia said.

Toris sighed and left them to bicker. It was really going to be a much easier and quieter night with Russia.

"Sir? Can I share with you?" He asked as he crawled into the tent.

Russia, however, was already asleep snoring and so, thankfully didn't hear Gilbert's snorts from the other tent.

"Toris loves Ivan..." chanted Gilbert.

Toris ignored him and managed to find a space around the big Nation. It wasn't the first night he'd spent next to the Russian.

Latvia shushed Gilbert, telling the Prussian that he was a 'twat'.

Gilbert, who only took this as meaning to sing louder, sang "You're soooo gay..."

Latvia was about to punch him when he sang "Toris and Ivan sitting in a tree..." He didn't get to the k.i.s.s.i.n.g. bit before a huge fist punched him through the canvas – more testament to Ivan's reach than it was of his strength.

"Quiet," came a low growl from the other tent – sounding very much like a large bear.

Raivis sniggered, "Yeah, Gil... be quiet," she said as if they were a pair of naughty kids.

Another bear-like growl emanated from Russia's tent, "Raivis? Quiet in there or I will come and quieten you..."

Latvia trembled and, pale-faced, snuggled down in her sleeping bag. Next to her Gilbert began to whisper horrid tales of Russian barbaric nastiness and savagery.

* * *

><p>"Poor Toris," Gil said to Latvia the next morning, a horrid gleam in his eyes, "I bet he can barely walk this morning."<p>

Latvia shuddered after the tales Gilbert had gleefully told her the night before and emerged from their tent to find Toris sat cooking breakfast and looking the most rested and relaxed of the lot of them.

"Morning," he said cheerfully.

"You... you... you're alright?" Latvia stammered.

Toris frowned, "Of course, why wouldn't I be? Oh..." he stopped when he saw Gilbert's horrid, leering grin. "Don't believe everything you hear... especially from _him _and especially about the boss."

Latvia gave a sigh of relief, "_He_..." (she pointed at Prussia) "... said that the boss was a rapetruck, a bloodthirsty monster and... argh!" here she screamed as Russia emerged from the trees with blood on his hands.

"What's wrong with little Raivis?" Russia asked as she fainted clean away, images of bloodied enemies lying in the forest. He handed Lithuania his 'kill' – two small birds he'd shot with his rifle. "I forgot my huntsman gloves," he said regretfully, "...and I didn't want to get blood all over my new winter gloves that Katya had knitted for me," he continued as he stepped over the small prone Latvian and began washing his hands in the snow. "Who'd have thought that little Raivis would be so sensitive about blood? It's a good job he wasn't in the war with us, eh Toris? He would not have lasted five minutes..."

There was no answer to this. Lithuania just took the dead birds from Russia's hands and proceeded to prepare them for the pot.

* * *

><p>"We have to march thirty miles today," Russia informed them as they hoisted their packs on their backs, the tents put away, the fire stamped out.<p>

Prussia and Latvia exchanged groans and as they began marching, Prussia began to sing in time:

"One, two, three, four... I don't wanna be here any more... five, six, seven, eight... Big fat Ivan's put on weight..."

Latvia giggled and was nudged by Prussia to come up with her own, "One, two, three, four... Prussia's good at losing wars..." (Prussia snarled at this) "... five, six, seven, eight... There's no way that Gilbert's straight..."

"Fuck off!" Gilbert yelled.

Russia snarled at him to shut up (even though he hadn't heard the jibe at his weight).

"Left, right, left, right, Gilbert isn't very bright!" Latvia sang happily. She'd really got into this now.

"One, two, three, four... Raivis is a total bore..." Prussia hit back.

"Five, six, seven, eight... Gilbert cannot get a date!" Latvia countered.

"One, two, three, four... I don't want to hear any more!" Russia called from the front. "Five, six, seven, eight... Or neither of you will be able to procreate!" Russia added.

"Too many words!" Gilbert called.

Russia spun around, with a horrid look on his face and brandished Mr Pipe, "One, two, three, four... I will put this in your head..." he sang.

"Fair enough..." Latvia mumbled.

To Lithuania's relief, for the next two hours there was silence (or almost silence as Latvia and Prussia continued to jostle and nudge each other).

They came to a small hill, climbed it and Russia took out his compass and map.

"I bet we're fucking lost," Prussia muttered to Latvia whilst he rolled a cigarette.

"How do you know?"

"Cos it's fat Ivan... he could get lost in a barrel."

"How can you get lost in a barrel? And what barrel would he fit in?" Latvia asked.

"You ask too many questions, shortarse."

"Gilbert! Go and get some firewood," Russia ordered him.

"Why?"

"To make a fire, idiot," Latvia laughed.

"I mean, why now? And more important, why me?" The Prussian asked, not unreasonably.

"We are staying here to eat..." Russia told them. Truth be told, if he didn't eat every two hours, his temper would be dreadful and he could feel a headache coming on already. Decrease in blood sugar, he decided and took a swig from his vodka bottle.

"Ja, but why me?" Prussia said again.

"Don't speak German!" Russia shouted. A flock of birds took to the air in fright and the land around them seemed to inhale and then exhale.

"Keep yer bloody wig on, mate..." Prussia grumbled and took off down the hill muttering to himself, "Needs to chillax, man. I'm the awesome me... not some bloody little Baltic... do this, do that..."

"Are we lost, Sir?" Latvia asked tentatively.

Russia rubbed a hand through his beige-blond hair and frowned, "Nyet... I just don't know where we are..." he said.

Latvia plonked herself down.

"Don't cry, Raivis..." Toris said with a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not going to cry, I'm going to bloody scream... bloody idiot!" she spluttered.

The Lithuanian just shook his head, "It'll be okay, Raivis. I've been through many wars with Mr Russia, fighting alongside him and against him... he knows what he's doing, he's not often lost."

Russia did actually look quite lost, he was sat on a boulder, his pack on the ground next to him, puffing on a cigarette (one he'd stolen from Prussia) looking at a map – upside down (the map, not Russia).

Then the silence was broken by a yell and a "Fuck... fuck ... fuck..." and a further short consecutive 'fucks' from the bottom of the hill, somewhere in the nearby trees.

They were all used to Prussia's swearing and shouting. To be honest, it was only Lithuania who stood up and looked even mildly interested ... and then sat down.

"He's always moaning..." Latvia moaned, "Never stops... always swearing... Listen to him..."

"Help! Bloody hell!" came the shout.

"Nyet!" Russia shouted down to him, "We will not help you, get that firewood..."

"Aaaargh!" Prussia yelled and they watched with interest as they glimpsed him dashing out of the forest and then disappearing back in.

"Such a drama queen," Latvia said.

"Hmmm," Lithuania said and stood up again. "I think I can hear growls," he said.

Latvia was about to say that it was probably Russia who was doing the growling, when Russia shushed them as he continued to pore over his map.

* * *

><p>Lithuania certainly could hear growls. Said growls were not emanating from his boss, but from a very large brown bear that was stalking Prussia.<p>

Gilbert had tried jumping up and down to make his slight 5 foot 7 inch frame look bigger – it didn't work. The bear cocked its head and then growled low and deep. Gilbert had then started shouting and swearing. The bear stepped forward and Gilbert ran – which was a stupid thing to do really, but panic seized him and much as he hated to admit it, he wished Russia was there. At least then, he thought, the bear could maul _him_ instead of his own awesome, too-young-to-die body.

"Fuuuuuuuck!" he yelled and ran out of the trees, waving his hands in the air and ran back in... and hoped one of those lazy, idle buggers who were supposed to be his comrades (God, he hated that word) would see him.

* * *

><p>"I think... Gilbert's having a little problem..." Russia said standing up.<p>

Lithuania picked up his rifle and began to make his way down the hill and... stopped when he heard an animal roar. "What the hell was that?"

"Brown bear... probably a big one..." Russia said, and picked up his rifle, pushed Lithuania out of the way and set off down the hill. He turned back and said, "You two stay there and keep an eye on my vodka."

* * *

><p>'Probably a big one' was an understatement, Prussia would have thought, if, indeed, he'd had time to think. He also found that throwing stuff out of his backpack in the hope that it would 'trip' or slow down the bear (which stood around 2 and a half metres tall when it stood on its hind legs to sniff at him and with a head larger than the Prussian's body – filled with teeth) did not work as well as he thought it would.<p>

Prussia would never ever say that he squealed... but actually, he did now and started to run, with a huge bear loping after him. He threw packets of tinned beef behind him which the bear actually stopped, sniffed at, tore open with huge claws but then turned and continued after him. Clearly, a nice ripe Prussian was a tastier prospect.

* * *

><p>Russia entered the forest, unslung his rifle and peered into the gloom. He could hear Prussia crashing around yelling and then he saw the huge bear loping after the smaller Germanic Nation.<p>

Russia was loath to shoot any animal – unless he was going to eat it, and he certainly was loath to shoot the animal that was the emblem of his country. But, he supposed if he had to save the annoying little German (as Russia thought of him) he would have to.

"Stand still, Gilbert..." Russia called.

"Sod off!" Gilbert yelled, "You don't have a bloody great bear chasing you!" and he shot off as fast as he skinny legs to carry him.

The bear loped after him.

Russia loped after the bear. 'Idiot,' thought Russia, 'It's just curious, if it wanted to eat him, it would have done so by now...'

* * *

><p>Latvia paced up and down, Lithuania sat down on the boulder vacated by Russia and took up the map.<p>

"Aren't you worried?" she asked him finally. She could see no sign of either Nation, nor the bear.

Lithuania shook his head, "They'll be alright. What animal in their right mind would eat Gilbert? They'd soon spit him out. I'm more worried about the bear. Especially now Mr Russia's gone down there."

Latvia wasn't convinced. She couldn't hear anything now and the cold was starting to bite. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, Lithuania having made a fire and boiled up some tea almost nonchalantly, she headed down the hill.

"The boss told us to stay here," Toris told her.

She ignored him, honestly, she thought, Toris was such a boring fart.

* * *

><p>Prussia had managed to get himself onto a branch of a tree and dangled there. He kept shouting "Shoo" at the huge eight foot mountain of fur beneath him as if it were some stray dog. "Kesese! You can't climb, Mr Bear!" he yelled at the bear.<p>

The bear seemed to consider this, even cocking its head. It then stood up, placed its front paws – both the size of dinner plates – onto the base of the tree and began to shove.

"Aaaaargh," Gilbert yelled, not unlike a girl as the tree began to sway.

Gilbert would have preferred anybody, even 'little poofy Italy' or his best mate, 'Den', to come and save him than 'fat Ivan' who came crashing through into the clearing.

"I will save you, little Gilbert!" Russia announced. "Privet, Mr Bear!"

Gilbert groaned. Did Russia honestly think he could talk down a bear? This should be interesting anyway. Gilbert actually settled back on his branch to watch Russia being torn limb from limb by a large brown bear.

'Mr Bear' turned around to face the big Russian, sniffing tentatively.

Russia came out with a garbled mixture of Russian and other languages that Prussia couldn't identify. "Yeah, that's going to bloody work, isn't it? Just talk gobbledegook at the bloody thing," Gilbert said.

"You are an idiot, Gilbert. She was after your food," Russia told him.

"She? What the bloody hell?" Prussia spluttered.

"Da, she's a girl... I think she might have cubs close by and you scared her."

"_I _scared her! Well... if that bloody thing is so tame..." Gilbert shrugged and attempted to climb down, only for the bear to growl and Gilbert shot back up the tree. "Scheiβe!" Gilbert yelled.

"STOP SPEAKING GERMAN!" Russia yelled.

The force from Russia's yell seemed to make the trees bend, Prussia fell off his perch, 'Mrs Bear' growled and then loped away quickly, the whole forest fell silent.

Russia pulled the Prussian up from the ground by the scruff of his neck, "Idiot," he said again, and then dragged him off back the way they had come.

* * *

><p>Latvia crunched through the snow, her rifle unslung and at the ready, her senses on full alert. Usually a few shots in the air should scare a large predator off, she thought. Then she heard Russia's shout, in fact the whole of Siberia must have heard it, and, despite her own feelings of self preservation and instinct, she ran towards the noise. It was actually quite eerie as all the birds in the forest had stopped singing, something very large went crashing through the undergrowth to the right of her and then... silence as if the whole of this vast country was holding its breath...<p>

Weird. Latvia hesitated and then continued, hoping she wouldn't find Gilbert with a pipe embedded in his head.

* * *

><p>Lithuania drank his tea, put out the fire and stretched. Where on earth were they? He had no doubt that Gilbert would turn up with his idiotic smile, having probably made his way up a tree and drank that secret cache of beer he thought no-one knew about. He also knew Russia would be alright, no matter what the forest threw at him – the only predator Lithuania was afraid of within a hundred mile radius was his boss. He was concerned about Latvia, but she was not the little fragile innocent that she made out either. He hadn't failed to notice the ease with which she'd handled her rifle, loaded it, checked the sight etc.<p>

He gave a sigh and made his way down the slope. Being probably the only intelligent and certainly sensible life within the vicinity, he had a responsibility to his fellow Nations.

He also rather hoped that he would run into Belarus. That she would be scared and frightened and looking for comfort. He could take care of her, wrap her in his arms... Lithuania floated off in his own imagination, his mind spinning little stories of himself and Belarus sheltering from a winter storm, his body heat keeping her warm... He strode along, humming to himself, in a complete daydream and failed to notice that he was going in the opposite direction to that taken by his friends...

* * *

><p>Latvia stood in the middle of the clearing and looked around. The forest had fallen completely silent, nothing moved, no birds, no small animals, nothing. The trees around her seemed to loom over her and she suddenly felt quite scared. She was used to forests, she'd lived and hidden away in those of her country for many years, but this one seemed so big, intimidating and cold.<p>

Then she heard something very big crashing through the trees to her left. There was heavy breathing and growling coming from whatever it was.

A bear, she thought, it had to be. A bloody big one as well. She checked her rifle, took off the safety catch and lifted it to fire...

* * *

><p>Lithuania continued to stroll along, humming quietly and then suddenly stopped. He could see no sign of footprints and could hear nothing of Russia, Latvia or Prussia – the latter was usually so loud, anyone within a five mile radius could have heard his whinging. In fact, he was lost.<p>

He turned around to try and re-trace his steps when he felt movement behind and to the left. He turned, raised his rifle, but was hit on the back of his head. He fell to the cold, hard ground and the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a pair of furry boots.

**Author's Note:**

**A bit of silliness I came up with whilst watching a survival programme on TV. Second part soon to follow. This wasn't meant to be a two-parter but it got very long.**

**Bloody Sunday to follow for Chapter 23 (in production...)**

**PMs/Reviews/Comments welcome.**


	22. Survival Part II

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd: **

**Lala girl in lala land, Ignacia437, Fear My Awesomeness, Mr , Simonana, peppermint twertle, Beelzineff, Celtic Nasthca, NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, Weap, Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Warnings: lots of swearing, stupidity, silliness, Prussia...**

**Chapter 22 – Survival Part Two**

Estonia and Ukraine were having the best time – she was nursing him, which she loved, he was laid on the sofa, a flannel over his hot, burning forehead trying to stem his 'fever' and enjoying the sight of Ukraine's bouncing boobs every time she came in through the door, and bent down to take his temperature. Heaven.

* * *

><p>Raivis raised her rifle to shoot and only just lowered it in time when she identified what the huge 'animal' was emerging from the forest. Russia was dragging Prussia by the scruff of the neck. The latter Nation had given up protesting and was being pulled along with his arms crossed across his chest and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He realised that calling Russia 'fat commie' just earned him a kick.<p>

"You found him, Sir... is he alright?" Latvia said, genuinely concerned.

Russia let go of the Prussian and said, "Da, we met a mother bear, didn't we, Gilbert?"

"Ja, she was a real charmer!" Prussia said, standing up, brushing the snow from his backside and muttered under his breath, "You should go out with her."

Russia spun around and yelled "STOP TALKING IN GERMAN!"

He shouted with such force that Gilbert's hair was blown back from his face as if he were facing a hairdryer.

"Hmmm..." Latvia said and shivered.

Russia turned to the smallest Baltic, "Come on, little Raivis. Let's go back and get something to eat. This idiot German..."

"I'M NOT GERMAN, I'M PRUSSIAN!" Prussia yelled.

But Russia ignored him and carried on walking, pulling Latvia along behind him, "We will have some tea and then move on... only another ten miles to go!" he said chirpily.

But... when they got back to the camp, Lithuania was gone.

"Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!" Russia shouted over the countryside.

"Poor Lithuania. I hope he's okay," Latvia said worriedly.

They searched around for a while, Prussia moaning that it was a waste of time. Russia was seriously worried, his favourite Baltic (well, apart from Latvia who had usurped Lithuania as his favourite lately) had disappeared. He stumbled up and down shouting "Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!" over and over again.

"Who will make my dinner?" he asked in all seriousness.

Latvia and Prussia looked at one another in horror. Latvia's cooking skills were laughable, Prussia's even more so.

"I bet he's been eaten by some mutant cannibals, kesese!" Prussia laughed.

"Poor Toris... I hope he's okay," Latvia said.

They tried tracing Lithuania's footprints in the snow, but it had started to snow and the prints were fast disappearing.

"Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii s!" Russia yelled again.

"He's taken his pack, so he has supplies... and one of the tents," Latvia said and then shut up quickly.

"He's defected," Prussia whispered to her.

"Nyet!" Russia said, "He has been with me for centuries... until that little bit between the Wars, but then he came back. He would not just leave."

"He's not bloody daft. He's high-tailed it outta here and halfway back to gay Pol's house by now," Prussia whispered to Latvia.

Latvia trembled, she could only imagine how her boss would react if this were the truth. But where was he? She hoped he was okay.

* * *

><p>Lithuania strained against the straps holding him down. He was sat on a hard wooden chair and was blindfolded and gagged. He tried to spit the gag out, but couldn't.<p>

His first thought was that Belarus had somehow mistaken him for Russia and had taken him captive, especially when he heard a female Russian voice. But then another female voice joined it.

"What do you think? Shall we take off the gag?"

"He's sooooo cute..."

"Calm down, Olga."

"I know but..."

Toris felt the blindfold taken off and then his gag was removed, but he was still tied up. What he saw were four women – all heavily armed, dressed in crude furs, their long blond hair in braids. He thought for a moment he'd stepped back in time to the Stone Age.

"Are you German?" one of the women asked – in Russian and then repeated it, with a disgusted look on her face, in German.

"No, I'm Lithuanian," Toris answered her in Russian.

"Not a German!" one of the women shouted out of the door.

Toris then realised he was sat in a room, with bare floors, no windows, nothing...

There were some squeals from around the room. Toris did not know if this was a good thing or not.

* * *

><p>Russia decided that they should stay where they were for the night, just in case Toris came back, he said.<p>

Prussia shook his head, "I bet he's being eaten by mutant Siberian cannibals..." he whispered to Latvia, "We'll never see him again."

Latvia almost cried and joined Russia marching up and down shouting the Lithuanian's name.

They finally gave up when the snow became too thick to see and trudged back up the hill. Russia hesitated for a minute in the snow as the little Baltic went ahead, and cocked his head to one side in confusion. There was something familiar about the little figure in the long greatcoat, with a rifle over the shoulder, in the snow, in the darkness... but he shook the thought away and trudged on.

"We can all cuddle up, there's plenty of room for the three of us and then tomorrow we will find Toris," Russia told them.

It was actually a squeeze in the two man tent for Russia, Prussia and Latvia. Latvia chose to sleep nearest the flap, she decided she would rather take her chances with a large bear than with Russia or Prussia.

Russia slept in the middle, spread out, so both Latvia and Prussia had no option but to feel the big Russian against their backs. Neither admitted that they felt some reassurance for his large, warm presence.

"Bloody country... bloody cold..." Prussia shuffled around.

He tried not to touch the Russian, but couldn't help it, otherwise he would have been out of the tent and found his back against Russia's.

Russia had turned over and had his arm flung around Latvia. She snuggled as far down in her sleeping bag as she could.

"Are you asleep?" Russia whispered to them.

"Fucking not now, are we?" Gilbert answered.

"I'm asleep..." Latvia answered.

Russia ignored them both and proceeded to tell them stories. Siberia meant 'sleeping land' he told them and he told of old Siberian folk tales of people being stuck in the snow, the old winter spirits that dwelt in the forest and what happened when unfortunate travellers came across them. These stories never seemed to end well, Latvia and Prussia both thought.

"... and then they were never seen again!" Russian ended chirpily and promptly fell asleep.

Latvia and Prussia both shivered and snuggled down in the respective sleeping bags. Subconsciously, both snuggled a little closer to Russia.

"Are you scared?" Latvia whispered to Gilbert.

"Nah, man..." Gilbert whispered back, but shivered and strained to hear for a creepy Russian grandmother who was going to lure him away and eat him.

Latvia trembled and pressed a little closer to her boss' side, who grumbled a bit and then began snoring.

"Do you think Toris is okay?" she whispered to Gilbert.

"He's maybe been eaten by some witch or he's being chased by some crappy winter spirit thingy if you believe idiot here... or more likely he's with his gay boyfriend."

Latvia trembled, "I hope he's okay..." she murmured and settled down to sleep.

* * *

><p>Toris was actually very much 'okay'. He'd had a lot of bad luck in his long, long life. He'd been under the dominion of Russia for centuries which had not always been a bed of roses. He'd spent many years cooking, cleaning and doing menial chores for the big, often dour, Arctic Nation. He'd spent years before that being pushed around by Poland – much as he loved him, he was always the secondary one in the partnership. Toris was not used to being pampered or looked after. However, now he found himself in a wooden tub filled with piping hot water, soft towels awaiting him and several women all wanting to scrub his back.<p>

He had problems with this. Not the women. Toris liked women. He loved Poland with all his heart and soul, but he still liked women, very much actually. His easy-going, gentle nature and soft, brown wavy hair and his forest-green eyes meant he was never short of dates if he wanted them. But he had a problem with anyone seeing or touching his back.

"Erm...I can do my own back, thank you," he murmured, aware that his scars were burning and he blushed with shame.

There were further squeals.

He had no idea why these women – over a dozen grown women – all wanted to undress him.

They'd insisted on him taking a bath, had taken his clothes and were now cooking for him – he could smell delicious aromas coming from somewhere.

"Surely your husbands won't be happy about this?" he'd asked tentatively.

There was silence to this.

He hoped he hadn't upset them. They seemed so nice and welcoming...

* * *

><p>Belarus marched through the forest. There may only be moonlight to see by, but she had her torch, a rifle, and of course, her beloved knives. She couldn't think of anything more dangerous than herself. She held her compass clasped in her hand. Where was that dear brother of hers? He might be alone and afraid now. Those stupid little Baltics and that idiot Prussia (here she spat on the ground) would abandon him, leave him. They didn't love him like she did. She would save him. He could be shivering and alone in a tent, helpless, perhaps having been attacked by a bear. She hurried on, her thoughts getting carried away. She would save him and he would be forever in her debt. He would be beholden to her and her alone... She marched on quicker now... The drugs for her psychosis wearing off, which meant that sleep alluded her, only one thought remained... find Ivan and save him...<p>

* * *

><p>"I wonder how Princess Creepy's getting on?" Prussia said the next morning as they sat around the fire eating from a tin of beans.<p>

"I bet she's killed a few bears, killed some Germans left over from the War and invaded Poland by now," Latvia answered. (It was testament to Belarus' persona that nobody questioned who or what was 'Princess Creepy'.)

Russia didn't answer but contemplated his breakfast. This is what it comes down to, Russia thought sadly. Without Toris he would be condemned to a life of beans...

And beans were not a sensible food stuff to give a large Russian.

"What's that bloody smell?" Gilbert exclaimed as they marched through the forest.

Russia, who had been yelling Toris' name, blushed, "It was me... the beans..." he began lamely and shut up.

Latvia shook her head, "Sir, if you keep shouting like that you'll scare all the animals and then we can't catch any for our dinner," she said, and then added, "...and it'll be beans again..."

"No way, man!" Prussia said with feeling.

Russia was inclined to agree with him. "I hope Toris is okay," he said lamely.

"Kesese, I bet he's been mauled by mutant bears..." Gilbert said with relish.

Latvia felt a lump in her throat, "Or maybe he's been found by Belarus?" she said.

Russia halted in horror and took the vodka bottle out of his coat and took a swig. It was almost empty, "Nyet... that would be too horrible. Poor Toris..." he began to say.

"Kesese... captured by Princess Creepy and tied up..."

Russia looked really worried at this, "We should go back, see if we can find him," he said.

"But, Sir... you said that we'd never get back to base..." Latvia said.

"I don't care. We need to find Toris," Russia answered and began to re-trace his steps, muttering to himself. He couldn't leave his faithful Baltic to such an awful fate, could he?

* * *

><p>Toris had had his scarred back scrubbed by several women, who had also insisted on helping to dry him, and then had dressed him in some furs and then taken to a room where he was fed and given lots of vodka. He had, by this time, ascertained that they weren't about to kill him or torture him and that, for some reason, there were no men around. The oldest males in the tiny community were around 15 and when he asked where all the men were, there was much sadness and tears. So he shut up quickly.<p>

He spent the night in a very large bed but found that his sleep was disturbed several times by women climbing into the bed with him and insisting on sex. He decided he had better comply, after all, they had guns and his weapons had been taken from him. In the middle of making love to the third woman, he thought of his comrades and hoped they were alright and not worrying about him.

* * *

><p>The KGB sentry guard blew on his hands. The snow had finally stopped and he had only another ten minutes before he could go off his shift and have breakfast. He peered into the dark forest at the edge of the training camp. There was a horrid aura of dread emanating from it. It was like an evil presence that he couldn't quite shake off the thought of. He shrugged, lit another cigarette and turned away. His comrade and fellow sentry should have met him halfway by now, but there was no sign of him. He began marching and then, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, unslung his rifle and began to slide off the safety catch. He didn't get far. There was a clunk on the back of his head and he was down, unconscious in the snow.<p>

The dark, shadowy figure moved silently like a ghost, past the body of the other guard and over the fence. A further sentry only managed to utter a strangled cry before he too hit the cold ground. The figure hesitated, expecting an alarm to sound. None did. The spectral figure moved on to the main compound and the officers' quarters. This was proving far easier than expected.

* * *

><p>"Toriiiiiiiis!" Russia yelled. His voice now had a desperate edge to it, Latvia thought.<p>

Russia had stormed on ahead of them. Charging through the forest, it sounded like a herd of elephants. Prussia ambled along behind her, puffing on a cigarette and smirking. His latest theory was that Lithuania had been abducted by aliens and was now being 'probed' by little green men.

Latvia ignored him. She took off into the forest with her rifle as she spotted a small furry mammal. "Dinner," she thought. At least this might save them from more beans.

Nobody noticed her slinking off. Russia was still stomping off shouting "Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiis" every so often, Gilbert was giggling to himself as he thought up awful and painful demises for the Lithuanian and got further and further behind. "Kesese... and then he ends up on Mars and there'll be no bloody Russkie to protect him there, will there?" Gilbert continued to snigger, evilly.

"Toriiiiiiiiiis!" Russia yelled from the edge of a clearing. He sighed as he cocked his head to listen.

"He's been beamed aboard their mother-ship," Gilbert said, standing next to him, stubbing out his cigarette.

Russia punched him, hard, without even looking at the smaller man, and then marched on.

* * *

><p>Lithuania certainly felt as if he'd been 'beamed aboard' somewhere. He woke up in the middle of a bed with four women draped over him.<p>

"Excuse me, ladies," he said, apologetically. He hoped they were alright. He still wasn't sure about their names. He just hoped there wasn't going to be some jealous boyfriends/husbands to deal with.

As it happened, there wasn't. He was given a hearty breakfast – still in bed and when he voiced his concerns, he was told all the men-folk were "away fighting the Nazi oppressor".

Toris was even more concerned now, "You do know that the War is over, don't you?" he said.

But he was shushed by one of the women, "We haven't seen a man in over ten years," one of them said.

Toris frowned. How isolated were they? He had no more time to ask questions as he was pushed back on the bed by yet another pretty young Russian and told to do his 'duty' for the wellbeing of the country.

* * *

><p>Latvia stalked through the forest, her small frame making no noise as she stepped carefully around the trees. She'd done this before, many years before; it had been the only way they could eat. The forest brothers had lived off the forest. Sometimes they'd received food donations from generous villagers who were sympathetic to the cause and not too afraid of repercussions from the Russians.<p>

So, hunting small mammals, birds, etc. was something she was quite good at. Being small and quick-witted with excellent eye-sight and reflexes made her a good hunter. But, although the kills were quick and essential for food, she always felt slightly sorry for the animal and said a little 'prayer' thanking them for their life. She remembered the first time she'd killed a German – the shock and how she'd heaved up half of her rations afterwards. She'd never quite got used to killing a human, even an enemy. She spotted the small mammal – a mink of some sort and raised her rifle, aimed, no hesitation, no emotion, fired... dead.

Russia pulled the vodka bottle from his coat and took a swig. He realised with utter horror that it was now utterly empty. Lithuania might have spares. Where was he? And then he heard a gunshot. He cocked his head and listened. Silence. No screams.

He trudged back the way he'd come, "Latviaaaaa!" he shouted. He really didn't want to lose another Baltic. He wasn't worried about Prussia, the little Germanic idiot could go and get eaten for all he cared.

Latvia emerged from the forest holding the dead mink in her hands. "Look Sir... look what I found!" she said.

"Hmmm... poor thing... did you shoot it? I didn't know you were such a good shot," Russia said, frowning.

"Well..." Latvia hesitated. She didn't want Russia to know that she was actually a very good shot, a sniper from the war in fact. It was best if he thought she was just inept. "... I think it was wounded and very slow... I just got lucky," she said hurriedly.

"Hmmm..." Russia nodded, still frowning.

"I'll skin it and roast it, shall I, Sir?" she said.

"Hmmm..." Russia nodded. Where had his littlest Baltic learnt such skills? He was about to ask, but the little Baltic skipped away, almost girlishly, and started to make a fire.

There was a yell from somewhere in the forest. "Fucking 'ell... Help!"

Russia sighed. He was really fed up of Prussia. If he went in to save the idiot, he would only get insulted for it.

So Russia ignored him, set about making camp and continued to look out into the distance, hoping to see his Toris. He ignored the crashing around and yelling from the forest as a German accent shouted, "Nein... nein... fuck off..."

* * *

><p>Two officers barely had chance to pull out their guns before a knife was embedded in each of their gullets. Belarus, pulled out the weapons, wiped them on her coat and continued. Where was her brother? He should be here by now. Were they holding him captive? She would rescue him, she decided. Nothing, but nothing would keep them apart.<p>

She went through the compound like an angel of death. Silent, deadly - hardened KGB officers were struck down before they even knew she was behind them.

She reached what she thought was the senior officers' quarters. By now klaxons were ringing and, as she crouched beneath the window, she heard men running backwards and forwards, raised voices of alarm. 'Under attack by unknown terrorists' they were saying. She smiled grimly. They would pay, she decided, for keeping her dear brother from her. She slid open the window, hoisted herself up and dropped into the room like a cat.

"_Privet_ Auntie Natty..." a familiar voice said - soft as silk.

She froze.

* * *

><p>Gilbert found himself up a tree, again, for the second time in two days. He was seriously pissed off. And he'd lost his cigarettes. He suspected Russia had stolen them. The good thing was that it wasn't a large 7 foot bear at the foot of the tree. The bad thing was that it was a wolf, and a bloody big one. It was staring up at him, snarling. He threw a tin of beans at it and told it to 'shoo', but it glared at him balefully.<p>

Finally, the wolf settled down at the base of the tree, curled up, waiting. Prussia clung to his branch, "Fucking dog..." he said, which of course was wrong. It wasn't a dog, not like his brother's Alsatians, it was a big fuck-off predator that saw him as dinner. He would have to call for Russia. With a bit of luck, he thought, the big idiot Russian might get mauled. He doubted it though, he just wasn't that lucky.

"Hey! Russia... fuckin' 'elp!" He yelled.

Over by the 'camp', Russia ignored him. He was too busy with other things – going through their provisions, hoping that there was another bottle of vodka stashed away.

"Latvia?" he asked finally, panic started to consume him. (He ignored further shouts of "Ivan! Help!" from somewhere in the forest. Gilbert could go to hell, he thought.)

"Sir?" she replied, turning the small carcass over in the flames carefully.

"Do you have any vodka?" he asked.

Latvia felt a shiver running down her back... oh no, please don't say he's run out of vodka... "I...I...don't think so..." she answered, tentatively.

The temperature dropped several degrees as Russia contemplated this and then he shouted in utter desperation, sounding rather like a wolf howling, "Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!"

For some unknown reason, Russia seemed to think that all problems could be solved by his eldest Baltic, without fail. How on earth Lithuania could replenish his vodka supply when the nearest off-licence was over 100 miles away did not cross Russia's mind.

Over by the tree, Prussia tried another tactic. He yelled and waved his arms at the wolf and threw tins of beans down on it.

The wolf just growled and then suddenly got up and loped off.

"Ha! Kesese! Stupid dog... the awesome me has triumphed again," Prussia laughed and climbed down.

He stretched, started gathering his stuff together, re-assembled his backpack and was about to set off to find 'fat commie bastard' and 'little idiot dude Latvia', when he halted in his tracks. In front of him was not one, not two, not even three but four very hungry looking wolves. All with huge teeth. He shot back up the tree quicker than a speeding bullet... well not quite.

Why couldn't they go after Russia? He had far more meat on him. Gilbert clung to his branch as four wolves sniffed the base of the tree and looked up hopefully at him as if he were prime steak.

Gilbert struggled to think, a feat in itself. What would get Russia's attention?

"Hey! Ivan...!" he began and then stopped. Usually calling the Russian by his human name got him annoyed... but he knew something else that would have him crashing through the undergrowth in next to no time. "Die Fahne schwebt mir weiß und schwarz voran; daß für die Freiheit meine Väter starben" he began to sing...

Russia stood up, his purple aura pulsated around him. He gripped his pipe so hard his knuckles went white and turned to Latvia, who was trembling at his feet, "Cook my dinner, I'm going to get that little bastard..." he snarled and took off.

The forest seemed to back off as he marched through, the trees seemingly bending back as the large Nation walked through. The birds fell silent and Latvia swore that the whole land held its breath.

* * *

><p>"I really should be getting back to my friends. They'll be worried about me," Lithuania said. He'd attempted to leave three times, but each time the women had looked so upset and one had cried so hard, he'd backed down. Besides, he couldn't find his clothes anywhere.<p>

* * *

><p>Belarus dropped to the floor gracefully, landing on her feet like a cat, her knife whipped out, and she held it at the throat of the young man standing in front of her. Nobody had reflexes like Natalya.<p>

The young man, however, had been trained in just about every Chinese/Asian martial art and blocked her move, spun the knife out her hand with one easy movement and had 'Auntie Natty' pinned against a desk.

"Little Sergei!" Belarus squealed.

'Little' Sergei was over six feet tall and built like his father.

He swore in what sounded like Chinese. "Aunt Natty why are you here? Where's Papa? You haven't... you didn't...?" he broke off.

He knew about his aunt's obsession with his father, which he found creepy in the extreme, but he also quite liked his aunt. He liked both his aunts, even though he found them both weird.

Belarus laughed, a weird, high-pitched scary laugh, "Ooh Sergei! Of course I haven't hurt your father... dear Vanya... I thought he was here? He's not?" Belarus pushed the man back and stood up and started going on about bears and wolves and her dear, darling brother who would be scared, alone, defenceless.

Sergei wasn't listening. He cocked his head, and his dark brown eyes narrowed as he listened to the sounds of his land...

"Siberia!" Belarus suddenly said, using his 'official' name, "Are you listening to me?"

Siberia wasn't listening to her. He could hear a commotion some way off in the forest... it felt as if the whole of the region had just taken a great breath in...

He ran a hand through his thick dark hair and then rummaged in his coat and brought out a vodka bottle.

"Thanks," Belarus began to say, "... But it's a little too early for me."

It wasn't too early for her to kill several people though, Siberia thought. "It's for Dad... when he gets here..." he said quietly and, taking up his snow shovel (his Dad's choice of weapon was a metal faucet pipe, whereas Siberia was never without his snow shovel) he opened the door and stepped out, pulling his scarf around his neck.

He barked out orders to several officers and pointed at his aunt.

Belarus was about to say something when several men grabbed her, disarmed her and marched her unceremoniously to the guardroom.

"Siberia! You can't do this to me! Remember I taught you how to throw a knife!" she yelled.

Sergei Braginski ignored her. He put his fur hat on, buttoned up his greatcoat and turned to one of his trusted Lieutenants, "Make sure she doesn't get out. Get a helicopter standing by... no... two – we can't have General Braginski and her in the same helicopter together or there'll be carnage. Go and radio to get the truck, we'll bring them in ourselves before they cause more havoc out there..."

He cocked his head again, listening... the Lieutenant waited patiently and then Siberia said quietly, "Who on earth decided it was a good idea to let _him _loose with that little fucking Prussian idiot." Here Siberia swore in a mixture of Russian and Chinese. He nodded to his second in command to carry out his orders and then quietly contemplated the forest around them.

* * *

><p>Russia slammed through the trees, "Kolkolkolkolkol..." he growled. A startled deer shot out from between the trees and ran as if from a large predator. Russia ignored it, even though it would have meant dinner would have been sorted. He marched on towards the sound of German singing.<p>

Singing was a loose term for what was coming out of the Prussian's mouth. Yelling would be more accurate. The wolves around his tree started howling in time. Whether this was from the pain inflicted on their ears or whether they thought Prussia was some kind of wounded animal.

Silence suddenly descended when Russia burst through into the clearing.

"Kesese! Get him, lads..." Prussia yelled at the wolves.

The four wolves cringed back, all four sank down to the bellies, their ears back, tails down.

Russia ignored them and strode up to the tree, "Gilbert, get down here now so I can kill you!"

Gilbert decided that wasn't something on his 'to-do list' and tried to ignore the big Russian.

However, unlike the bear and the wolves, despite his bulk, Russia could climb.

"Fuuuuuuck!" Gilbert exclaimed.

Russia got to the first level of branches and hesitated as they bowed under his weight. Prussia scrambled further up the tree as Russia kolkolled behind him.

"You. Are. Dead," Russia announced ominously and threw his backpack down, told the wolves not to touch it and began to ascend.

Prussia would claim later that he awesomely fought off the 'fat commie bastard' one-handed whilst being mauled by a ravenous pack of wolves. What actually happened was far less exciting.

Russia attempted to climb to the next level on the poor tree but found the thinner branches finally gave up on his 200 pound plus weight and with an awful snap he fell to the ground.

"Kesese! You need to go on a diet!" Prussia yelled triumphantly and laughed with joy, hoping that Russia would have broken his back and be mauled by wolves.

He wasn't – on both counts. To Prussia's utter disgust, Russia stood up, brushed the pine needles from his coat and glared up at the Prussian. The wolves continue to cringe on their bellies and were actually whining.

Russia, to Gilbert's amazement, bent down and patted one of the wolves on the head. The wolf did not rip Russia's hand off, but rolled over onto its back and whined softly as if the large Nation was the pack leader.

"I fucking 'ate this country," Prussia said, with feeling.

* * *

><p>Lithuania was one person who did not 'fucking 'ate this country', however, he was still trying to escape. He was exhausted. Although it could be construed as every man's dream – to find themselves in a village consisting almost entirely (apart from a few adolescent boys) of women. All of whom hadn't seen a grown man in over ten years.<p>

"Can I leave now?" he asked. "Where are my pants? My friends will be worried about me..." he said. Certainly, if some of his fellow male Nations (i.e. France, Prussia, Spain, America, Denmark) were in his shoes, they would not have been attempting to escape.

One girl clung to his leg as he located his trousers and attempted to put them on.

"Don't leave us..." she wailed.

"I have to... my friends..." Lithuania said.

"Lena...I think we should let him go," an older woman said sadly.

There were gasps from the other four women in the room, "Nyet!"

"Why?"

"But he's soooo cute... can't we keep him?"

Lithuania hurriedly picked up the rest of clothes and threw them on, picked up his backpack and practically ran out of the door. He knew that if he didn't leave now, he never would.

He hurried away from the village, followed by one girl who kept telling him to come back soon... He hoped that Russia would not be too angry that he'd been gone for nearly 24 hours. What on earth could he tell his comrades? They would never believe that he, the quietest, most unassuming Nation, had just spent the last 24 hours having non-stop sex with a load of women. He decided he would just tell them that he wandered off and got lost... or that he'd been captured by Belarus and had gotten free...

* * *

><p>Belarus was in handcuffs, tied to a chair and surrounded by armed guards. She growled at them intermittently and every so often threw her head back and yelled for her brother. Why on earth she thought Russia would rescue her, no one knew. He would no doubt have run in the opposite direction. Although Belarus was the expert in tying people up and her dear brother was usually the unwilling victim of her bondage experiments, she was not an expert in untying knots.<p>

* * *

><p>"Dinner's ready!" Latvia called. "Mr Russia... Gilbert...?" Latvia sighed and sat down. She just hoped that they hadn't disappeared. She didn't want to be all alone in this godforsaken land. She was about to shout again when she felt a large hand on her shoulder and the temperature dropped by several degrees. She screamed ear-piercingly loud.<p>

* * *

><p>"I ain't coming down!" Prussia yelled.<p>

Russia sat at the base of the tree surrounded by wolves and ignored the Prussian.

"We'll wait him out, da? Silly little Gilbert... he thinks he can stay there all night and all day... but Russia knows this forest and knows the cold will put its fingers around his little neck..." Russia chirruped creepily to the wolf laid next to him.

Gilbert yelled down to him, "I can fucking hear you, you big freak!"

Russia ignored him and sang a strange lilting folk tune to himself.

* * *

><p>"Privet, little Latvia," a voice said. A cold breeze ruffled her hair. She could feel the cold emanating from the figure behind her, biting into her shoulder.<p>

The fire spluttered and went out.

* * *

><p>Lithuania made his way back to camp. He rummaged in his bag and, to his utter relief, found the spare bottle of vodka he always carried. This could be his lifesaver. He hurried on and saw the smoke rising from roughly the same area he'd last seen Russia, Latvia and Prussia and then heard a girlish scream. Alarmed, thinking Latvia was hurt or that Russia had found out she was a girl, he quickened his pace.<p>

* * *

><p>Russia heard the scream and jumped to his feet. Prussia, forgotten, Russia shoved the wolves away, picked up his pipe and took off. Little Raivis was in danger and he didn't want to lose his smallest Baltic.<p>

He stormed through the forest and ran up the hill towards where he'd left the small Nation.

Prussia yelled, "Hey! Don't leave me!" in a rather pathetic voice.

* * *

><p>Raivis flinched away from the tall man in the grey greatcoat. Who on earth was he? He had dark, almost black hair with a sprinkling of iron-grey, dark brown eyes with the epicanthic folds which pointed to a more Asian origin. The man also had a stern, grim-looking look on his tight lips and was gripping a snow shovel.<p>

"Who... who... who are you?" Latvia stammered. After hearing all the stories of snow and forest spirits, she was rightly scared.

"Siberia," he said abruptly, looking her up and down. "Where's my father?" he asked and then looked around. He wasn't disappointed when he saw Russia stomping up the hill kolkolling.

Latvia was amazed when the large man didn't flinch or run away or even look scared when her boss charged up, flung his pipe away and pulled the dark man into a huge bear hug.

"Little Sergei!" Russia chirruped.

"Little Sergei" had to be six foot, Latvia thought and built like his father.

Siberia hugged his father back and then winced as Russia tightened his squeeze.

"You've grown so much!" Russia chirruped.

"Papa Russia... I'm exactly the same height as I was the last time you saw me!" Siberia said, pulling away and rubbing his back. Russia's hugs were often a bit too much, even for a large region such as himself.

He pulled out a vodka bottle from his coat, and waved it in front of the large Nation, like a man enticing a child, "I brought you this," he said.

But Russia was temporarily distracted as another figure appeared.

"Toriiiiiiiiiiiis!" Russia exclaimed and ran to hug his eldest Baltic.

Toris felt himself pulled into Russia's embrace and smothered against the larger man's coat.

"Erm, Sir..." he struggled to breath and managed to pull away as Russia reluctantly relinquished his hold.

Lithuania gave a sigh of relief when he saw Latvia was alright (although shivering) but felt a sense of dread when he saw Siberia. Siberia was not to be messed with, was intelligent and it was doubtful he would be fooled by Latvia's disguise – as boyish as she looked.

"So... this is your son, Sir?" Latvia asked timidly.

"Da... my little Siberia..." Russia said happily, and hugged the man again. "What a good boy he is, he brought me vodka!"

Latvia edged close to Lithuania, "Russia has a son? Who's his mother?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

Lithuania shook his head and whispered, "We don't know, nobody knows... it's a bit of a secret."

"So, where have you been, Toris?" Russia asked as Siberia pulled away.

Toris thought quickly, "I was captured by Miss Belarus, Sir..." he began.

Siberia shook his head, "Don't lie... Aunt Natty is at a KGB training camp just south of here..."

Russia looked alarmed, "Just south? Where?"

"Don't worry, Papa Russia... we've sent her home," Siberia said.

Toris thought quickly, "Well... okay... I er... I was abducted by a bunch of women and held as their sex slave..."

Russia laughed at this and clapped Toris on the back, "You are very funny, Lithuania!"

Latvia shook her head.

Siberia just raised an eyebrow.

"Anyway, I brought you some vodka," Lithuania said and pulled the bottle out of a pocket.

"Toriiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!" Russia hugged the Baltic again happily. "Now I have two bottles..."

Siberia nodded, "Let's get you out of here," he said, "This is no place for a little girl Nation either," he added pointing at Latvia.

There was a sharp silence.

Latvia shrank back. Lithuania opened his mouth to say something but shut it again like a goldfish, where was Estonia when he really needed him?

Russia frowned, looked at Latvia and then at his son and, to Latvia's relief, laughed. "My little boy is always making jokes and pranking... so funny... You are very funny, Sergei!" he said, gulping down his vodka.

Siberia was about to interrupt but was hugged again by Russia. "I like having all my family together!" 'Papa Russia' exclaimed.

A German accent cut through the air like a knife, "Kesese! Fat commie bastard and his gay boyfriend!"

Prussia, his clothes already torn, his face bloody after his skirmish with four wolves, was knocked clean out by Russia's fist.

* * *

><p>The helicopter ride was uneventful. Prussia was still unconscious, which made it even better, in Latvia's eyes. However, Siberia kept staring at her, which made her very uncomfortable. Russia was on the way to becoming drunk and Lithuania was asleep – apparently exhausted.<p>

As they jumped out at the local military base in Irkutsk, Siberia waited until his father had disappeared into the building, Lithuania had staggered out and Prussia was stretchered off and then turned, grabbing Latvia's arm.

"You're a girl," he whispered.

She nodded and looked up into brown eyes... where had she seen those eyes before? They were nothing like Russia's purple irises. Apart from his build – big, strong, muscular – he looked nothing like Russia. "Please don't tell your father," she pleaded.

Siberia hesitated and glanced across at his father's broad back as the big Nation disappeared into a building and started telling the military personnel that he should be given 'a pass anyway' with regards to the survival course.

Nobody was likely to disagree with him.

Latvia carried on looking up, pleadingly, into those brown Asian eyes, "Pleeeeease..."

Siberia ruminated. Siberia wasn't a bad person. In fact, although he had a harsh exterior and looked cold and forbidding, he was a nice person. But he'd had a tough life. Brought up by his father in the snowy wasteland of his northern home, he had problems with people and barely knew his mother, who was just a shadowy figure in his childhood... and adulthood.

He glanced down at Latvia's pleading eyes, considered the fact that his father had severe obsessive relationship problems (notwithstanding 'Auntie Natty') and said quietly, "Da, okay... but one day, I may ask a favour of you."

Latvia nodded, but worried what that 'favour' might be.

* * *

><p>Leningrad<p>

"I didn't know it was his bloody son! Nobody bloody tells me anything! I thought the guy was his gay boyfriend!" Prussia remonstrated.

Toris ignored him and continued baking bread. He still ached in unusual places after his night at the women-only village. He'd told Siberia where the village was and hoped that the women would be rescued and brought into the present day. He tried to tell his comrades where he'd been, but for some reason, nobody believed him.

Latvia was sat at the kitchen table, "This Siberia person... is he trustworthy?" she asked tentatively.

"Course he's fucking not... he's the spawn of Russia... he's a bloody nutcase like his father – it's in the genes," Prussia told her.

Estonia raised an eyebrow and just coughed carefully, "He was decorated during the war many times. He's also one of the highest ranking KGB officers, so I'd be careful what you say," he said.

"That cough still no better then, yer skiving bastard?" Prussia voiced the thoughts going through Latvia's and Lithuania's heads.

Estonia coughed again, very ostentatiously, "Katya was very kind in looking after me... I don't think I would be here if it weren't for her kind attentions."

"Aye, I wish I'd stayed behind with Miss Double D, instead of being mauled by bears, wolves and fucking idiot Russkies..."

"Who's his mother?" Latvia asked suddenly.

"Who?" Estonia said.

"Siberia - who's his mother?" she asked again.

"Some poor Russian bird with no bloody sense... It's a bloody wonder he managed to do anything... He doesn't look capable! Kesese!" Prussia wheezed at his own 'joke'.

Lithuania shook his head as he put the bread dough in the oven... All this talk of children, babies, mothers..."I didn't use any protection!" he said suddenly, blurting out his thoughts.

"Well... get your oven gloves on! What a bloody poofy gay boy you are!" Prussia laughed.

Latvia shook her head, "He looks Chinese..." she said.

"He looks gay..." Prussia said.

"Who? Siberia?" Latvia said.

"Nah... Toris..."

"I meant Siberia..."

"Kesese... he does as well."

They all shut up when Russia stomped in, "Privet little ones... Because we didn't finish the course, I managed to persuade the KGB to let us do it again. This time though, little Eduard can come with us..." He chirruped in a high, creepy tone.

Eduard coughed. Latvia and Prussia groaned. Lithuania looked worried.

"... and Katya!" Russia added, grinning happily. "A family camping trip..." he said and pulled them all into a bear-hug.

* * *

><p>Over in Novosibirsk, Siberia was on the telephone, "Hello mother... yes... I know it's been a long time. Yes, I've seen Papa... Yes, I'm eating my vegetables... Yes, I'm wearing my scarf... Nyet, I'm not drinking too much..." he sighed. He would have thought that, at over 300 years old, he didn't have to answer to his parents any more...<p>

**Author's Notes:**

**"Die Fahne schwebt mir weiß und schwarz voran; daß für die Freiheit meine Väter starben" – the first four lines of the Preußenlied – literally the Song of Prussia.**

**Irkutsk and Novosibirsk are both cities in Siberia.**

**Thank you to VengefulCat for kindly lending me her character, Siberia or Sergei Braginski.**

**I'm sure you can all guess who Siberia's 'mother' is.**

**I wanted Lithuania to have a good time in this chapter... he deserves it. The next chapter is angsty ... and Lithuania does not have a good time...**

**Next chapter – Bloody Sunday...**


	23. Bloody Sunday

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz. **

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd: **

**Daethtofools, VulcanBlood, GilanBraginski, DawnShine, ****Teh AWESOME BeastMODE6****, Lala girl in lala land, Ignacia437, Fear My Awesomeness, Mr , Simonana, peppermint twertle, Beelzineff, Celtic Nasthca, NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, ****Weap, ****Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, ****Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, ****Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, ****Art and Soul, ****Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11,**** AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, ****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are. **

**Warnings: This is my take on the Bloody Sunday strip by Himaruya and some explanations for Lithuania and Russia's behaviour. Please note, this is just my head canon... PMs/debates/questions are welcomed. This chapter may look like the ubiquitous abusive Russia fics, but bear with me. Warnings for violence, angst and Prussian swearing. Lithuania fangirls look away now...**

Chapter 23: Bloody Sunday

On January 22nd, 1905, the very last fragile thread holding Russia's sanity together, snapped.

Seeing his own citizens, the children of Russia, dying by his own hand... it was too much for him to take.

He sobbed as he pulled the trigger on the protestors, as the snow beneath his feet turned red with blood, as the bullets shot out of his gun seemingly in slow motion, because he was seeing everything.

Everything.

Every last citizen as they fell, every soldier in line next to him as they continued to shoot... following orders, orders from the Tsar, just like him.

Ivan Braginski would never be the same.

* * *

><p>Leningrad - January 22nd, 1950s.<p>

Smash... the plate of food narrowly missed Toris' head.

"I said no ghoulash! Can you not get any proper meat? This is shit!" Russia yelled. His aura crackled around him.

"But... the household budget..." Toris began to say and ducked again as Russia slammed past him. He winced, expecting a punch – there was none, but he held his breath as Russia threw a chair across the kitchen with inhuman force and it smashed into matchwood.

Latvia cowered in a corner, Estonia stood in front of her, trembling.

Prussia came in, holding a plunger, "Fuckin' 'ell..." the Prussian exclaimed at the scene in front of him – the food dripping down the wall, the smashed chair, the big Russian standing in the middle of the kitchen, his fists clenched, his cheeks red, purple eyes blazing and more alarmingly his purple aura surging around his broad back like demon's wings.

Russia shoved past Gilbert and almost took the door off its hinges as he slammed out.

"What... why...? He usually likes his food... I don't understand?" Latvia stuttered.

Latvia was correct. Russia did usually like his food and would happily eat anything put in front of him. (He'd told them enough times how he'd eaten boiled rat at Stalingrad.)

* * *

><p>However, today nothing was right. He'd gotten up late and crashed through the house, yelling at all of them, throwing items of furniture at walls, and slamming 'Mr Pipe'.<p>

"He's just in a bad mood," Toris sighed and began to clean up. "Everything will be alright tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?" Latvia asked.

"Yeah, Toriiiiiiiiiis..." Gilbert said in, what he thought was an exact imitation of Russia's voice – a kind of high-pitch, childish whine - slumping in a chair, still holding his plunger as if it were a weapon, "'Fess up. Why tomorrow? Is it just jerkface's annual fuckestival?"

Toris shuddered at the word 'annual'.

But Gilbert carried on. Now he had an audience – Latvia and Estonia listening intently and watching Toris' reactions, "Is it a full moon or has he got wind again?"

Estonia murmured something, "...Last year..." he began to say and then stopped hurriedly.

Prussia, still waving his plunger around, narrowly missing Latvia, who had sat down beside him, said, "Eh? Last year? Oh, ja... I remember now. I mean, he's always in a shit mood..."

Latvia disagreed with this, sometimes Russia was annoyingly cheerful and could sometimes be heard singing Russian folk tunes around the house. But his temper and the speed at which his mood could change frightened her. She'd lived in his house for just a few months and she'd never seen anything like this. She found herself trembling so hard, her knees knocked against the table.

"I bet he's on his period! Kesese!" Prussia laughed hilariously.

Latvia couldn't help but smile at this. Much as Gilbert annoyed her, life in Russia's house would be a dull affair without him. They were all afraid of Russia, but Prussia still managed to come up with varying insults and extremely bad imitations of the boss, which never failed to lift her mood.

They could hear him now upstairs slamming around; the ceiling above them seemed to shake as the large Nation crashed around.

Lithuania winced and felt the scars on his back ache. _Don't think, don't remember, don't go back there_. _Someone has to keep a level head and protect them all. Everything will be alright_.

* * *

><p>Russia came back down the stairs – sounding very much like a herd of elephants. He went into his office and kicked the door shut, slumping into his chair, pulling his scarf around his neck and opened the desk drawer to pull out the bottle of vodka he kept there. His hand shook as he took several long gulps from the bottle. His back ached, all the scars on his body ached. The chain marks around his neck burned and the sensitive skin there felt raw.<p>

_Don't think, don't think. _ He regretted throwing the food at Toris, but his brain felt foggy – as if he were moving through treacle. Fire raged through his head and anger burned in his throat, even the taste of vodka couldn't eliminate or mask the humiliation and anger. He wanted to kill, rend, rip, tear flesh from flesh, and limb from limb. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until he could feel the blood drip down. He stared down at the patterns of the carpet. So much blood, so many lives... but what he wanted more than anything – what he really ached for – was somebody to wrap their arms around him and tell him it was alright and that he wasn't a monster.

* * *

><p>"Raivis, take this coffee and cookies to the boss," Toris said to Latvia.<p>

"Why me?" she squeaked.

They'd cleaned up the kitchen, Prussia had been sent outside to shovel snow, Estonia was ... elsewhere. Toris often wondered about Estonia – how did he do it?

But at least Eduard had been there to protect Latvia earlier on.

"Because he'll hit Gilbert, I don't know where Ed is and I'm busy," Toris answered. Truth be told, his back ached and the least time he spent with Russia today of all days, the better. It just brought back bad memories for both of them.

"Can't he just... come in here... I don't want to go in his office..." Latvia stuttered, the tray shook in her hands and she looked pleadingly at Toris.

"Take the biscuits – they're his favourite and they'll calm him down. He won't hurt _you_," Toris said.

Latvia stepped out of the kitchen in the hallway and shakily made her way to Russia's office door. Coffee spilt across the tray as she attempted to balance it and knock on the door at the same time.

"Oh great and fearful Russia, I've brought you some coffee!" she called, in what she hoped was a cheerful voice.

She waited and was about to put the tray down to knock again when there was a low growl of "Come in," from inside.

She hesitated. Going into Russia's office was a minefield at the best of times, today it was just knee-knockingly awful. You never knew just what you would find. 'Normal' – if anything could be classed as 'normal' in the madness of Russia's house – would be Russia sat at his desk with a bottle of vodka dictating notes to Eduard who would be at an adjoining desk. But once she'd walked in on Gilbert dangling from the ceiling high bookshelves by his fingertips whilst Russia hid under his desk; another time she'd walked in and found Russia standing on his head – his explanation had been that 'Mr China does it for meditation'.

She inched the door open, to have it flung back so that she almost fell in – right into Russia's chest. She looked up at him and he glared back down at her.

"Wut?" he asked menacingly.

"I brought your coffee and cookies..." Latvia all but squeaked, looking up at him.

Russia frowned, took the tray from her and glared. "You've spilt most of my coffee!" he growled.

"I'm sorry... please don't hurt me..." she squeaked and immediately dropped to her knees.

Russia hesitated, he placed the tray on his desk and stared down at his smallest Baltic. Anger and embarrassment burned in his throat. Why did they always assume he was going to hurt them? Oh yes, because he had... He felt like punching Gilbert particularly, right that moment. He clenched his fist subconsciously but then reached down and gently patted Latvia on the head.

"Get up, little one..." he said quietly. "Just go..." he added softly.

Latvia leapt to her feet and just about ran down the hallway back to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Toris just raised an eyebrow as she flung herself in and shut the door.<p>

Gilbert waved his ever-present plunger at her, which was bizarre really as he'd just been fixing the shed roof, "Kesese! Fuckin' big idiot Russkie's still got a wasp up his arse?" he asked, after taking one look at her white face.

Latvia didn't answer but slumped in a chair.

Toris handed her a cookie. She hesitated before eating it, hoping it didn't contain one of the boss' 'meds', but then thought 'what the hell?'

The doorbell rang. Toris pulled another batch of cookies out of the oven, wiped his hands and went to answer it. (Prussia was not allowed to answer the door.)

Latvia and Prussia exchanged grimaces and she shoved the plunger out of her face as he waved it in the air.

"Bloody stop it, Gil..."

"Halt die Schnauze!" Prussia retaliated.

Latvia choked on her cookie, "Aw... Gil... you're in trouble... you're not supposed to talk German..." she said.

Gilbert was about to say something – probably in German – when they both cocked their heads to listen.

They could just hear Toris telling someone at the door that the boss 'was not available today' and that the visitors 'should leave if they knew what was good for them'.

Gilbert grinned lewdly and stuck his tongue out at Latvia, "I bet its fat commie bastard's Alcoholics Anonymous Group!" he said.

Latvia shook her head, "Maybe it's Miss Belarus?" she whispered.

"Nah... can't hear any shrieking or knives..." Gil answered.

They soon found out who the visitors were.

Toris must have relented and let them in, and Russia must have emerged from his office to find out who was stood at his door.

Latvia and Prussia peeked around the door and watched as three KGB officers shoved Toris out of the way.

"You can't keep us out..." one of the officers had started to say.

Toris picked himself up from the floor where he'd been shoved, and carefully dusted himself down. He could, quite easily, have knocked the officer flat on his back – he wasn't a black belt in Karate for nothing – but had no fight in him today of all days.

However, he didn't need to.

Russia, having had a bad day anyway (he would probably say 'a bad century, da?'), had thrown open the office door, taking it off its hinges and stormed down the hallway like a demon from hell. His pipe slammed against the walls as he went. "Who are these people, Toris?" he snarled.

"K...K...KGB, Sir," Toris stammered, stepping back hurriedly.

Russia's eyes blazed, "Fuck off out of my house," he said in a horrid quiet voice.

Latvia knew then that things were getting really serious. Russia usually had a high-pitched, creepily chirpy voice, it only went into a low growl when he was seriously pissed.

Estonia snuck up behind Latvia and Prussia and whispered "What's happening?"

Latvia almost screamed.

Prussia sniggered, "Dude Latvia screams like a girl!" he said.

Latvia punched him.

* * *

><p>"We're here, Sir, to ask young Mr Latvia some questions about..." the KGB Officer began to say.<p>

Latvia shrunk back and looked around wildly for an escape route.

Russia shook his head, "I do not think so, nyet... You are not going to ask any of my Baltics anything," he said, "I know what happens to people who go away with you and answer your questions... bad things happen to them. This is not a good day..." he said all this as he tapped his pipe against the wall. The 'thud thud thud' reverberated around the house.

Toris opened the door and said, "I think you'd really better leave," he advised the officers.

The KGB should have taken his advice. Unfortunately they didn't. What possessed them to think that they could take on Russia is unsure. There were three of them and they were all armed, whilst there was just one of him and he had just a pipe...

Clearly they misjudged as one said, blithely, with mis-guided arrogance, "Well... we'll be interrogating Mr Latvia anyway..."

Russia disagreed with this and made his views known by embedding his pipe in the man's skull.

Blood spattered the walls and there was a horrid crunch as bone shattered.

Russia pulled the pipe from the man's head and contemplated the gore on it.

"Hmmm," he hummed.

"Shit!" Gilbert exclaimed and he pulled Latvia – who was already trembling and white-faced – back with him into the recesses of the kitchen and tried to cram them both into Toris' store cupboard.

Toris, almost retching his guts up, went into the kitchen to fetch the cleaning stuff, but then back-tracked to ring for an ambulance – or the mortuary van.

The remaining KGB officers looked aghast at their comrade's twitching body on the floor and then back up at Russia.

One pulled out a gun, but was promptly punched in the face by Russia. The blow almost snapped the man's neck in half and he fell like a nine-pin. The last remaining officer struck a martial art pose but didn't even get a blow in as Russia slammed the man's body against the wall so hard plaster came off in large chunks. There was a horrid red smear on what remained of the wall.

Russia turned to Lithuania, who was shakily ringing for an ambulance, and said quietly, "Clean this for me, Toris," before turning and going back to his office.

Toris just nodded before hurrying into the kitchen and emptying the contents of his stomach into the sink.

Estonia placed a hand on Toris' arm and said quietly, "Lithuania... it'll be okay, today will soon be over and perhaps now he's shed blood, he'll feel better?"

Latvia and Prussia both squeaked from within the store cupboard. Both being too scared, for once, to argue (although Prussia would say later he was protecting Latvia and 'there was no way he, the great awesome one, was scared of fucked-up bat-shit crazy Russkies losing their marbles and smashing people's heads in').

* * *

><p>Russia did feel better now that he'd got rid of some of his anger. He sat quietly in his office, staring at his blood-stained hands, clutching his bottle of vodka, the pressure in his head seemed to have eased and he closed his eyes for a moment.<p>

At least he hadn't hurt any of his Baltics. He hadn't hurt Toris or little Latvia. He wasn't bothered about Prussia, but if he'd killed the little prick, he would have had to answer to the rest of the Nations and that wouldn't be good.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Images of the Nations' accusatory looks, their shunning him at world meetings, afraid to sit next to him. It wasn't his fault that he'd sat on young Canada that time – he hadn't seen him. Britain, France, Canada, America had all been his allies and friends once. And then other images came back, ones he'd tried to keep at bay all day. Pushed to the back of his mind. Blood and snow. Gunshots. His people (his children) dying by his own hand. And then... oh and then... such anger, humiliation, shame. The Tsar and his Government had tried to say that 96 had died... but Russia knew better. He counted every single soul that had passed that day.

Russia put the vodka bottle to his lips again and trembled. _Don't think, don't think_. _Don't hurt anyone... If I stay here and just drink, no-one else will die... No more blood, no more tears._

He almost, _almost_, wished Natalya was there. At least his little sister was someone who would hug him and not think of him as a monster.

* * *

><p>Toris, Raivis, Gilbert and even Eduard scrubbed the hallway clean, several times one or the other had to go outside for fresh air. Gilbert, who claimed he had a stomach composed of steel, retched several times.<p>

Shady men in suits had arrived to take the bodies away. It was doubtful that any of the KGB officers had survived Russia's onslaught. The ever-watching surveillance in the van at the end of the driveway watched with horrified as eyes as their comrades were stretchered away. They telephoned in to their superiors to tell them that they would be moving their van before the large Nation spotted them.

By the evening, all seemed calm. Russia had emerged from his study to eat and had stayed silent. Clever Estonia made comments about football and the weather just to cut through the awful, leaden silence. Latvia barely ate, her stomach churning as she eyed her boss. Prussia kept making 'ga-ga' noises behind Russia's back and rolling his eyes like a maniac. Latvia couldn't summon up a smile, but Toris smacked the Prussian about the head and told him, schoolmaster-like to 'shut up and sit down'.

* * *

><p>The evening was spent as it was usually spent - they sat in the living room, Prussia and Latvia played cards, Russia and Estonia played chess – Estonia letting Russia win, Lithuania darned the holes in various socks. Soothing music played on the clapped out gramophone. Although the scene looked domestic and cosy – with the fire crackling and cups of tea balanced on the small antique coffee table, there was an air of dread. Every time Russia moved, they all tensed. There was still an over-riding sickly smell of blood and everybody ignored the bloody stains on Russia's coat.<p>

Eventually, to everyone's relief, Russia – by now almost comatose from the amount of vodka he'd consumed – stumbled up to bed.

Latvia whispered fearfully to an exhausted Lithuania, "What was all that about? Why did no-one question why there were three dead bodies? Why was he in such a bad mood? Toris?"

Lithuania shook his head, "Whenever we phone for an ambulance from here, it gets flagged up by the KGB and they sort it out... As for the boss..." He shook his head, his stomach and head hurt from the stress, "I'll explain tomorrow," he said, his voice shaking.

"Yeah... cos Prince Ivan of Nutsville is clearly on a one-way ticket to Insanity City," Prussia smirked and then murmured to Latvia, "Lock your door, leetle Latvia," he said menacingly with a dreadful gleam in his eyes, "Rapetruck Russia is on the prowl tonight."

* * *

><p>The next morning found the Braginski household in a more positive state of mind.<p>

Lithuania was making porridge, Estonia was filing, Prussia was drinking beer with his cereal and examining yet another map of Eastern Europe and telling them how he was going to 'escape this crapsack place', Latvia was sat drinking black coffee – her third.

She'd barely slept, lying awake most of the night, alternating with staring at the door expecting Russia to come charging through and raping her, and hiding under her blankets (as if blankets would provide any security from a rampaging Russian).

As it happened, Russia had passed out on his bed, fully clothed and dreamt of blood and sunflowers.

When he emerged that morning, he'd already had a long bath to wash away the smell of blood, and came downstairs looking as fresh as a daisy.

The Baltics and Prussia stared at the Russian as he came into the kitchen and said breezily, "Privet, little Baltics... and you, Prussia. What a beautiful morning!"

Prussia murmured to Latvia as an aside, "I see his mothership has just dropped him off... Another day on Planet Ivan..."

Latvia wisely ignored him, as did everyone else.

* * *

><p>But Russia's eerily cheery mood pervaded the house. Another day, another anniversary over. He hadn't fallen apart. Russia conveniently forgot the bloody fight that had happened. He ignored the bloodstains that wouldn't come out of the carpet and walls and strode into his office, threw the empty vodka bottles into his bin and plonked himself down.<p>

Latvia shook, although Russia's big cheery grin had faced her across breakfast, she couldn't help but see the madness lying close behind it, the cloudiness in his purple irises as Prussia inadvertently hummed some nonsensical song before being shushed by Lithuania.

Russia slammed back into the kitchen, "Toris!" he yelled.

Toris almost dropped a saucepan and went white with fear, "Sir?" he asked fearfully.

"You can stop cooking lunch..."

"Oh?" Lithuania froze and glanced at his companions who all stared, waiting for what Russia was going to say – something awful, some dreadful order, or perhaps he was going to finally snap and punch one of them through the window?

"We are all going out to lunch! My treat!" he said chirpily and breezed back out.

* * *

><p>Later...<p>

Latvia shuddered as she held the menu, Prussia sniggered, Toris and Eduard exchanged looks.

"This is very nice of you, Sir," Toris began to say.

"I should bloody think so after..." Prussia started to say but was stopped by Toris' hand over his awesome mouth.

Russia's smile froze for a moment and the temperature in the restaurant dropped by several degrees. Latvia trembled even more, her knees knocked together as she saw his purple irises cloud and a frown crossed his face like a dark cloud.

"Wut?" he growled.

"Nothing!" Latvia squeaked. The aura of dread surrounding the large Arctic Nation spread and the rest of the restaurant went silent.

Prussia kesesed and snapped his fingers for the waiter. None were forthcoming. For some reason, everyone avoided their table.

Russia glared around the table and his eyes settled on Latvia whose eyes started to water.

Russia then smiled, a large beam that seemed to light up his face, "Eduard, order some lunch," he told Estonia, he then reached over and patted Latvia on the head, "Don't worry, little one..." he said.

Estonia snapped his fingers and a waiter arrived, much to Prussia's annoyance.

"Fuckin' 'ell, I'm off for a piss," he charmingly told them.

Latvia shuddered, Lithuania shook his head, Estonia proceeded to order the food, Russia got up and followed Prussia out.

"Erm... Sir...?" Lithuania asked as the large Russian passed him, trailing the unsuspecting Gilbert.

"I am going for a ... I'm going to the little boys' room," Russia said with a cheery wave, and disappeared after Gil.

Latvia trembled and turned to Lithuania as the waiter disappeared with the order, "So what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Toris asked.

"What do I mean? I mean _him_... one minute all hell's breaking loose and the next he's taking us for lunch? Are you joking? Is he joking? And what did Gil mean by 'annual'? What's going on because I can't cope with this. He's clearly not right in the head and if he's going to be a bastard fine... then he's a bastard, but then next minute he's all Mr Nice Guy..." Latvia took a breath and then continued, "If he carries on like this, I'm off..."

Lithuania and Estonia exchanged glances, they could only imagine what Russia's reaction would be if Latvia escaped. Prussia – well, Russia would probably celebrate, but little Latvia had already become firmly embedded in Russia's affections, they noticed.

"I'll explain later," Lithuania said quietly, rubbing his temples.

"You'd better," Latvia said.

She was about to say something when Prussia stomped back. "Bloody 'ell... you could have warned me _he_ was going as well..." Gilbert said the word '_he'_ with a sneer and a rolling of eyes.

"You mean the boss?" Estonia asked with a smirk.

"Bloody 'ell... he was in the next urinal to me..." Gilbert began to say.

"...and...?" Toris asked with a frown. He wished he hadn't.

Gilbert sat down ashen-faced, "Let's just say, I never want to see anything like that again..."

"What?" Latvia asked, in all innocence.

Gilbert spread his hands wide and began to say, "_It _was this big..."

"What was?" Latvia asked again, but was shushed by Lithuania as Russia came back smiling.

* * *

><p>As it happened, lunch was a quiet affair and involved copious amounts of vodka and other alcoholic beverages – consumed by all of them.<p>

When they finally got back home, after Russia had eaten several desserts and scared several diners, Russia shuffled upstairs happily to sleep off his huge lunch.

Gilbert burped loudly and was about to announce he too was off for a sleep, when Lithuania handed him a paintbrush and paintpot and told him to go outside and paint the shed.

"No way, man! Why me?"

"Because nobody likes you and if you don't I shall tell Mr Russia," Lithuania said tersely. To be honest, his head hurt – he wasn't used to drinking in the middle of the day – and he was dreading Latvia's questions which he knew were about to come.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Toris... I fuckin' 'ate you," Prussia yelled, but stomped out. You just didn't mess with Russia's favourite Baltic.

"So..." Latvia began as soon as Gilbert could be heard stomping up the garden path, "...Tell me what's going on with Psycho-boss."

Estonia raised an eyebrow at Lithuania, who rummaged under the sink unit and pulled out a bottle of Polish Wodka and filled three glasses.

Latvia was surprised to say the least, this was the emergency vodka, the stuff saved for when all the other vodka had been consumed.

"I'm going to need this," Toris said and gulped a glass-full down. The liquid burned his throat. He wasn't used to drinking – not heavily at least – but he was going to need it tonight.

Latvia was about to say something, but was shushed by Estonia.

"It was a Sunday, January the twenty-second 1905 to be precise..." Lithuania began.

"Fifty years ago yesterday then..." Latvia began to say, but was shushed again by Estonia who shook his head at her.

Lithuania didn't hear her, but was back to that day, his eyes misted over. "A cold day... but then it's always cold in St Petersburg in January..." he tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. "The ground was cold and hard... We didn't expect so many protestors... So many people... Women as well as men..." Lithuania halted abruptly and poured another glass and tipped it back down his throat. He wiped his mouth and sighed. "They started to march towards us... near the Narva Gate..."

"Who's _us_?" Latvia asked quietly.

Estonia leaned in and whispered, "The Imperial Guard... Toris and the boss... the boss was in charge that day,"

Lithuania continued as if they weren't there, his voice sounded far away, "There were so many of them. We fired shots in to the air to stop them, and then... I don't know who it was ... fired. Then it was just... Blood... so much blood..." Lithuania stopped again and poured another glass.

Latvia's eyes widened, she'd never seen Lithuania drink so much, even when Poland was visiting, even when Belarus had visited.

"Mr Russia said that he wouldn't have children who didn't play nicely... He said..." here, Lithuania paused again as he remembered Russia turning to him, the pain and shame in his eyes, shooting your own people would feel as if you were tearing your own heart out. Lithuania wondered if Russia had finally snapped that day. He remembered trying to tell the Russian that it would be 'alright'. But no, it would never be alright.

"What?" Latvia whispered, "...Did he shoot? Did Mr Russia kill some of them?"

Lithuania took a swig straight from the bottle and continued, ignoring her question, "So much blood on the snow. When Mr Russia called to cease fire, it was too late, so many dead. 96 they said! So many more..." he said bitterly.

"So that's why..." Latvia began to say, tears began to form in her eyes. She could understand now why yesterday was so painful. For a Nation to have killed some of their own people... she shuddered.

But there was more to come, so much more. Lithuania, as if a dam had broken, was not stopping now. "His Majesty came back the next day and ordered Mr Russia to account for his actions. He blamed us..."

Estonia and Latvia exchanged looks.

"I didn't know..." Estonia began to say. This was news to him.

The door burst open and a cold wind breezed in, "Shed painted... I added a big fuck-off Prussian eagle to the roof!" Prussia yelled triumphantly.

"Talk about ruining the moment..." Estonia muttered.

"Hey, dudes! What's going on? You having a séance? What's up with Toriiiiiiis?" Gilbert laughed.

"You'd better not have painted an eagle on that shed roof, or you're in trouble, Gil," Latvia said.

"Ah, fuck off, leetle Latvia..." Gil laughed and dodged out of her way.

The phone rang, everyone stared at each other. Lithuania's head had dipped so low, it was almost on the table and his eyes were closed. Latvia gently reached over and took his hand. He opened his eyes and smiled softly.

"I'll get it..." Gilbert goose-stepped out to the hallway.

Estonia stood up to go after him, there was no way they could allow Prussia to answer the phone.

"Let him get it..." Lithuania slurred and then looked up, his green eyes looking straight at Estonia, "Sit down, Ed. I have to tell the rest. You want to know it all, yes?"

Eduard wasn't sure about this. There was an awful wild look in his friend's eyes. He'd known Lithuania for centuries – been under Poland's dominion in fact with him. But there was still some of Toris' personal history that he knew nothing about.

Prussia's voice could be heard from the hallway: "Hey, man, you've reached the house of fat commie bastard, how's it hangin'? ... Nah, man, I'm not gay Toris, I'm the Awesome Prussia! ... I am awesome! ... Well, I'm more awesome than _you_!"

Latvia winced and hoped to whatever God there was, that Russia hadn't heard.

Toris rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and began again, "Mr Russia and I were called in to see His Majesty..."

"Tsar Nicholas the second..." Estonia whispered to Latvia. Latvia nodded and shushed him, her eyes were wide.

"The Tsar blamed us for the deaths. Blamed Russia. He said the people loved their Tsar, why would they do this? He was angry and said Russia should not have shot his own people... they were peaceful protestors..."

Latvia's mouth dropped open and finally she found words, "I bet the boss drop-kicked him through the nearest window!" she said.

Toris shook his head, "He was the Emperor of Russia, Raivis... He ordered that Russia be punished... as an example, to teach him a lesson..."

"No! But that's not fair!" Latvia said, "Mr Russia wouldn't have meant to! Surely..." she trailed off.

Toris was trembling, "The Tsar was afraid of Mr Russia, he was afraid of what was happening, the Bolsheviks and what was coming... He wanted to keep control..."

Estonia nodded, "It was the start of the revolution," he murmured, he was about to add something else when Prussia stomped back in.

"Hey, did you reach anyone?" he all but yelled.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Latvia asked.

Prussia sat down at the table, shoved his feet up and popped open a beer, "Is there anybody there?" he said in an over-theatrically ghostly voice, "Knock once for yes, twice for no... Ghosties and ghoulies and dead Tsars?"

The 'dead Tsars' comment made Toris look up, he'd been tracing a pattern on the table in spilt vodka and now glared at Gilbert, "Shut up, Gilbert and go and clean that downstairs toilet, like I asked you..."

Gilbert gave him the middle finger, "Twirl on this, Toris, yer big..."

He didn't get to finish as Latvia jumped to her feet and pulled Gilbert to his feet by his neck, opened the door and threw him out.

Gilbert slouched against the door-jamb as nonchalantly as he could, "Well... hormones getting to you? Not getting enough..." he didn't get to finish as Latvia slammed the door in his face.

"So what happened then?" Estonia asked as Toris poured another glass of vodka and then drank from the bottle.

Lithuania, his eyes blurring, trembled again, as if someone had poured cold water over him. "They whipped him," he said hoarsely.

Latvia and Estonia exchanged horrified looks.

The phone rang again and they all paused, as if on some awful film and then Gilbert could be heard outside in the hallway, yelling down the telephone: "Yo, Den, my main man! ... Hahaha, no way, man! ... You found a thong _where_? ... Dude, that's not good man ... Does Ber know? Cool, man ... Francis did _what_ with _who_? ... In your wardrobe? ... Dude, that's not nice."

Latvia felt ill, her face paled, "They... they... whipped him... you mean... Mr Russia...?" she managed to stammer.

Toris nodded, his eyes filled with tears, he was shaking so badly that the glass in his hand shook and vodka spilled over the top. He tried to empty the bottle in his hand into it, not knowing, not caring that the glass was already full. The bottle was empty and he shook it and then threw it into the sink where it smashed.

Latvia jumped at the sudden violence from her fellow Baltic - the gentlest person she'd ever met. But Toris just sighed, he ran a hand through his hair and met their horrified looks, "Twelve lashes... isn't that the standard punishment in the military?" he said with a bitter laugh.

Nobody said anything.

"If you say anything... anything about what I'm telling you... to anyone... he'll kill me... you have to promise me..." Toris slurred, his face white. He grabbed Estonia by the lapels and said, "Don't tell him..."

Eduard nodded so hard, his glasses slid down his nose. "I promise... We promise..." he said hurriedly.

Lithuania released him and gently patted his head, in a remarkably similar way to Russia.

"Was he hurt badly?" Latvia whispered. She couldn't imagine anyone hurting the big Russian and living. The thought of being whipped at all, but twelve times... the pain must have been... she gulped.

Lithuania nodded slowly. He remembered it, he wished he didn't. He'd been forced to watch – the Tsar wanted Russia held accountable for what happened and had wanted his subordinates to know that he, the Tsar was in charge.

Lithuania had been amazed that Russia had not even cried out, but bared his teeth as the whip ripped through his flesh. But hadn't been able to look away as the tears of pain and shame burned on the old Nation's face. He'd been amazed when Russia had made it back to their quarters and then collapsed with pain and exhaustion on the bed. He'd tried to tend the wounds as best he could. He'd had no idea at the time that that was the last thing he should have done.

"He... he... we got him back to the barracks and... he collapsed... he was covered in blood..." Toris whispered.

"Poor Mr Russia!" Latvia cried and then covered her mouth hurriedly.

Estonia looked up at the ceiling. Russia's bedroom was just above the kitchen, if he'd heard, they would all be in trouble.

Nothing, silence. Only the sound of Toris' laboured breathing and Gilbert's over-loud nonsensical one-sided conversation with some poor unfortunate on the telephone.

"You tried to help him didn't you?" Estonia asked quietly. He guessed with growing horror what was to come.

Lithuania nodded and his eyes met Estonia's. They'd shared many things together, known each other for many years, lived under Russia's rule together.

"Oh no..." Estonia said, "What did he do? When he came around?"

"What could I do? I had to bandage him up... his back was ripped to shreds..." Lithuania almost wailed.

Estonia shook his head, "He hates anyone seeing..."

"What? Why? What are you two on about?" Latvia said, "You did a kind thing..."

Estonia looked at the younger Baltic, "Latvia... never ever feel sorry for Mr Russia, don't show pity or mercy... he sees it as an insult. Power and strength mean everything to him. He would kill anyone if they saw him when he was wounded."

Latvia stammered, "But... but... that's just..."

"Mad?" Estonia raised an eyebrow, "Indeed... or just centuries of being whipped and abused and mistreated by your bosses?"

Latvia opened her mouth to say something.

Estonia placed a hand on Lithuania's arm. The elder Baltic had slumped in his chair and his eyes had glazed over.

"Come on, old friend, get it out..." Estonia said quietly and gently.

Lithuania raised his eyes, the gentlest green eyes Latvia had ever known. If he wasn't gay and her adoptive brother, she always thought she could fall in love with those eyes.

"I've never been so afraid... I thought he would kill me... He told me that I should have left him to bleed..." Lithuania squeezed his eyes shut. The beating hadn't been the worst of it. The harsh accusations that he, Lithuania who was Russia's most favoured and trusted subordinate had enjoyed seeing his boss suffer, had been the worst. The madness in Russia's eyes, the smell of vodka on his breath as he'd stood over him. He hadn't stood a chance as those huge hands lifted him up by the neck...

"He said I must have enjoyed it... that I had got my revenge... I tried to protest... He said I was gloating... when I'd put on the bandages... I didn't... I swear ... I wouldn't..." Lithuania broke off and a sob escaped him.

Latvia stood up, came up behind his chair and wrapped her arms around his chest and bent so her head rested on his shoulder. He reached around and patted her head.

"What did he do, Toris?" Estonia asked quietly.

"He ... just beat me up... punched me..." Toris said, but wouldn't meet the Estonian's eyes. He looked away ashamed.

Estonia frowned, "Where did you get the scars on your back from?" he said suddenly and, to Latvia's ears, harshly.

Lithuania shook his head and then met his fellow Baltic's eyes, "He whipped me... twelve times. He was drunk... He said I should feel the same shame and pain he did..."

Latvia stepped back as if she'd been stung, "What? He whipped you? No... oh my God..." she said.

She was about to rant about the evilness of the Russian and Estonia was about to tell her to keep her voice down when they heard Gilbert yelling:

"Ew, so what did Ber do when he saw the stains on the ceiling fan ... Hahaha, that's priceless! No way, man! ... So hey, doesn't someone need to give Icey-dude the talk? ... What do you mean Norway won't let us do it? ... No one knows more about sex than us, kesese ...Seriously, man... it's creepy here. The Baltics are having a séance and calling up some dead dude ... Yeah man, really. I know, right? We should totally go out and get wasted, Den ... Nein, not with Alfie – he's such a kid and he brings bloody Arthur with him. He's such a downer – all that shit about the Blitz, I mean come on, get over it... that was years ago ... You did? Ludwig? Kesese! And Specs? He's such a tightwad ... Fifty tons of it? On the driveway? You're a top dude... Who paid for the delivery? ... Fuckin' A, man! Switzy will kill you, man ... Yeah, yeah, but Tino hates you, man."

Latvia just couldn't help herself, she flung open the door and shouted, "What? Who had what delivered?" she asked.

Prussia looked up, "Hang on, man..." he grinned happily, his pinched pale face actually glowing with merriment, "Dude Den ... fifty tons of horse manure to Bruder's and Specs' houses, man!"

Latvia shook her head and then heard a deep rumble from the ceiling above.

Russia stomped along the hallway and stuck his head over the banister, "Shut your yelling, Gilbert or I will shut you up..." and then, seeing Latvia stood shaking, he smiled sleepily, "Privet, little Latvia," and stumbled back to his bedroom, slamming the door.

"So... yeah... it's little Latvia big balls giving me grief. Nah, I know he looks like a chick, right?" Gilbert continued as if nothing had happened.

"I'm not a bloody chick!" Latvia yelled and then, fearful of Russia's presence on the floor above, she whispered, "Tell your idiot friend, I'm not a girl."

"Nah, mate... Got no boobs... Snotty-nosed little... ow!" Prussia yelped as Latvia flicked his ear.

She dodged out of the way of his awesome fist and went back into the kitchen. Lithuania had slumped in his chair and was snoring, completely passed out.

Estonia had his head in his hands.

"Do you think... do you think he'll be okay? They'll be okay...?" she asked hesitantly.

What Lithuania had told her had blown her mind. She knew Russia was capable of a lot of things. She'd seen him embed a faucet pipe into a man's head just the day before, but Lithuania seemed to be the boss' favourite. He threatened them plenty of times, even shoved them out of the way when he was in a bad mood. Sometimes a cup would be thrown against a wall. Furniture had met its doom yesterday. But this... this was just what she'd dreaded and feared and what Prussia had warned her - the mad, insane, violent boss.

Estonia had no idea what to say. He'd seen the scars on Lithuania's back and knew there was a lot of history between Russia and Toris, stuff he had no idea about. He knew his friend had suffered a lot in his time under Russian control, as had he. But that had mainly been their people, they as Nations had suffered second-hand, feeling their people's deaths and servitude, but he, personally had escaped any physical abuse.

"Come on, Raivis. Let's get him to bed," he said quietly.

Between them they half carried, half dragged the Lithuanian up the stairs. Ignoring Prussia as they went.

"Ja, man... and Toris is dead drunk... Ja... can't take his drink like us ... Nein, he can't join the Awesome Trio, man! He ain't awesome..."

Latvia paused at the top of the stairs, let go of Toris, who was leaning against the wall, held up by Estonia and ran back down.

She twatted Prussia on the side of the head, "Idiot!" she hissed.

"Bloody 'ell! What was that for?" Prussia yelled at her as she dodged back up the stairs. He then turned back to the receiver and told the person at the other end, "Bloody Latvia bloody well twatted me, man! He did ... I know... I'm gonna kick the little shit's arse when he gets back down here ..." Prussia hesitated, listened and then began to argue, "I bloody will! I bloody well will!"

Latvia and Estonia could hear Prussia arguing down the telephone as they steered an incoherent Lithuania into his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed and they carefully took off his shoes, undid his tie and covered him with a blanket.

"He can't bloody kick my arse! I'm bloody bigger than him! I bloody am! I'll kick _your _arse!" They heard Prussia practically shouting now down the telephone. "Well... I hope Berwald sends you to bed, then ... Auf wiedersehn... Oh and don't forget the beer next time yer big... oh he's gone... Berwald? Nein, not me ... He did? That's a big phone bill ... It's nothing to do with me if Den phones Australia thinking it's Austria. I'm not scared of you, Mr Sweden..." Prussia's voice had suddenly got quieter and then there was a long pause, "...I don't believe in Santa anyway..."

Latvia peered over the banister to see a chastened Prussia fiddling with the telephone cord and looking very sheepish, like a schoolboy being told off by a headteacher.

* * *

><p>That night, nobody slept soundly apart from Lithuania – the drink rocked him to sleep, his dreams were full of golden cornfields amidst his homeland.<p>

Latvia laid awake, she'd cried – tears for Toris, for Russia, for all of them.

Estonia, usually the soundest sleeper, sat up in bed with his calculator and his secret accounts book – he needed more money to buy them exit visas. He hoped when he eventually got them it wasn't too late.

Prussia laid awake worrying that the next time he saw Sweden and Finland they would kick his arse. Surely, it wasn't his fault if Den had phoned Australia? It wasn't his fault if his idiot friend did these pranks – he only suggested them. "I don't believe in Santa, I don't believe in Santa..." he muttered to himself, trying desperately to believe his own words.

Russia had been awake for hours. He'd lain awake listening to the Baltics and Prussia go to bed, hearing their whispers, but not the actual words. He'd heard Prussia's indignant yells that he 'wasn't scared of no big fuck-off Viking Nation'. Russia doubted this very much.

He waited until the house was silent and then wrapped his dressing gown around himself securely, muffled his scarf round his neck and shuffled down the hallway. He stopped outside Toris' door and took a deep breath, he turned the handle and carefully stepped in.

Toris was curled up, a blanket over his head, his legs sticking out, his left big toe sticking out through a hole in his sock.

Russia loomed over the smaller Nation and then silently bent down and gently brushed the blanket from the Lithuanian's head.

"I'm so sorry, Toris," he whispered and with the gentlest of motions, kissed Toris on the forehead.

Toris stirred and mumbled in his sleep. The cornfields grew dark – gold turned to black and dark wings swept over him. He tried to run but he moved as if wading through treacle. Feliks was trying to tell him to run, he saw his best friend holding his arms out. His legs moved like a dog chasing rabbits in a dream... "Just coming, Feliks... soon..." he whispered.

Russia frowned, anger crossed his face like a cloud and then he lightened just as quickly and gently pulled the blanket back over the Baltic Nation.

He stepped out into the hallway, glanced along the hallway, considered tucking Estonia in and then up to the attic and tucking little Latvia into bed. He wasn't, under any circumstances, going to go into Prussia's room. But he decided instead to take his knitting and sit by the fire until sleep overcame him. Yes, that would be better.

Another day in the life of the Baltics...

**Author's Notes:**

**Stalingrad – The Battle of Stalingrad in the 2nd World War – many starving Soviet soldiers (and Germans) were reduced to eating boiled rat.**

**Bloody Sunday – 22nd January 1905 – striking workers led by a priest, attempted to present a petition to the then Tsar Nicholas II at the Winter Palace in St Petersburg protesting about working conditions. The Imperial Guard surrounding the palace fired warning shots over the heads of the peaceful protestors and then fired directly into the crowed – to disperse them.**

**Officials said 96 died, but the anti-Tsar groups put the figure at a 1000 - - many killed by gunfire and/or crushed in the panic that followed.**

**Although the Tsar wasn't actually present in St Petersburg when the events occurred, he was widely held to blame.**

**The events are widely considered to have led to the Russian revolution that followed in 1917.**

**Apologies for swapping between angst and crack, but I thought the angst was so heavy, crack was needed to reduce the tension slightly. Prussia is really my comedy relief. This chapter actually took me ages to write and I kept changing my mind over and over about how Toris gets those scars... I also drank a lot of vodka in the writing of this story...**

**PMs/comments are always gladly received. **


	24. Lost in London Part 1

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd:**

**SereneWorld, MissLuzLuna, EJM513, Daethtofools, VulcanBlood, GilanBraginski, DawnShine,****Teh AWESOME BeastMODE6, Lala girl in lala land, Ignacia437, Fear My Awesomeness, Mr , Simonana, peppermint twertle, Beelzineff, Celtic Nasthca, NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens,****Weap,****Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000,****Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98,****Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia,****Art and Soul,****Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11,****AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou,****FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Sorry for the long gap in writing – writer's block, work, life has got in the way. Wrote this out of some notes I'd jotted down in an attempt to get out of the writer's block hole... **

**After the angst of the last chapter, here's crack, crack and more crack – with a side helping of ... taking the piss...**

**Special guest stars: America, England, France and... Yorkshire...**

**Chapter 24: Lost in London Part 1**

**Location: London. Date: sometime in the 1970s**

They had only been out of the airport for five minutes and Latvia was already feeling decidedly unwell. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she tried to think happy thoughts and not focus on the way the yellow Ford Cortina they were sitting in was being spun around corners like wooden horses on a carousel.

She snuck a glance at Toris, next to her. He looked worried, but not necessarily ill, though his window was wound as far down as it would go. Latvia would have done the same, but there was no lever on her side of the back seat, only what remained of a broken one. She sighed, gulped, and wished she had some water.

"This is fun, _da_?" Russia said, as he illegally overtook two buses in one go and narrowly avoided colliding with a cyclist. Three people honked their horns, but he just grinned at them and carried on driving.

The next ten minutes were much the same. Russia went straight through a red light, drove along the pavement for a little while so as to get past a traffic jam and then proceeded to perform an illegal U-turn when he discovered that he'd reached a dead end. Lithuania found a packet of polos in his pocket and offered Latvia one. She took it.

Estonia was fiddling with the radio, trying to find something that wouldn't make the boss punch a hole in the windscreen. He eventually settled on some kid's lunchtime radio show that seemed to be all about the importance of eating vegetables.

"But I don't like broccoli..." Russia muttered, swerving out of the way of an Austin Princess. The driver stuck a finger up at him. "Ooh, Englishmen are very rude!"

"Like we didn't already know that," Latvia muttered. "'Nother polo, Toris, or I'll throw up on you."

Toris gave her the packet.

The car was finally abandoned in the hotel underground car park – diagonally across three spaces. Russia smiled happily and bounced towards the hotel entrance, Toris trailing with suitcases, Ed with his briefcase, Latvia threw up as discretely as she could in a wastebin.

The hotel concierge put a stop to any bounciness Russia had (which was quite a lot).

"Now then, thee!" the man said. He was not dressed like other concierges. Although he wore a smart uniform with gold braid, he also wore a flat cap and had wellington boots on his rather large feet.

Russia stopped short and looked the man up and down, "Wut?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Wipe thee bloody feet," the concierge told him.

Russia, whose English was very good, had no idea what the man had said, but looked down at his army boots and frowned.

"I think he means 'wipe your feet', Sir," Eduard said and then, because he made it his business to know everybody and the Nations' family trees, "Hello Yorkshire, how are you? I'm surprised to see you here."

Russia stepped towards the Region and peered at him, "Are you Arthur's son?" he asked, "You don't look like him."

Yorkshire took a step back and looked up at the Russian, completely unperturbed, "Aye, I am Arthur's lad... He's a crap dad. He was never bloody there when I was a kid, I was left to it on me mam's farm. And then them bloody great idiots turned up and invaded. Bloody Jorvik! What kind of bloody name is that? Still can't stand that Denmark – what kind of moron spikes his hair up? At least you're sensible with your hair all flat like mine." Yorkshire took a deep breath, completely unfazed by Russia's deep purple gaze on him.

Russia turned to Toris and said, matter-of-factedly, "He IS like his father!" Russia had no idea what Yorkshire had just said, but the presence of all the 'bloodies' convinced him of the Region's parentage.

Yorkshire ignored this, "I was told to stand here and greet you lot. I 'ope there isn't gonna be any trouble? Dad and that daft Frenchman are already in the conference room... I don't know who else is here. They don't tell me very much..."

Russia and his Baltics stomped past, as Yorkshire's continuing rant about 'the bloody Vikings' and 'gay Frenchman and loudmouth Americans' got fainter and fainter.

"I hope America is not going to be here..." Russia lamented to Estonia as they got in the lift.

"Well, Sir, this is a conference about NATO so..."

"His voice gives me a headache," Russia said, his aura glimmered faintly.

* * *

><p>The hotel bar<p>

Latvia was drinking a soothing cup of tea and resting her head back against the back of the chair, trying to settle her stomach. No-one was around – she thought – and perhaps she could just sit there, quietly, while Russia was in the meeting.

Her peace did not last. A familiar, creepy voice called out:

"Leetle Latvia will help me, won't you?"

It was the words Latvia dreaded. Where were the others? Why was it always her?

"Well..."

"There is a big store down the road that we can go into and get my vodka..."

Surely, it should only take an hour maximum. What could possibly happen? Take him into the supermarket, buy the vodka and nothing else, come back to the hotel. Deliver him to the meeting. Sorted...

Latvia sighed and continued to look around the hotel bar desperately for Toris, Eduard, Katya, perhaps Mr England who was after all hosting this meeting. Nobody could be seen, only the ubiquitous, supposedly undercover KGB officer assigned to follow the large Nation wherever he went.

"Okay, Sir..." she said finally. He was going to go anyway and had already buttoned up his long winter coat and wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck.

He grinned happily at her. He liked having his Baltics with him. He could, no, should, have come alone, but he'd brought them along – he liked their company. Toris always found out where the coffee was and Eduard made sure he wasn't late for any of the meetings. Little Raivis was his little sunflower and cheered him up just by looking at the smallest Baltic – the sunny, bright hair and the cheery smile.

"Da! Come on, Raivis! We might be able to buy some nice English chocolate that they don't sell in my country... and..." here Russia paused and dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and began counting the English notes, "I think we might have enough to buy you some of that pop music that you like!" He was feeling particularly happy and generous today. London was warmer than he'd expected, although it was raining and foggy.

* * *

><p>In room 101, Toris was on the telephone. His usual calm quiet voice had taken on a steely edge.<p>

"This suitcase has Ivan Braginski on the name-tag, yes... we did get it back, but the vodka was gone from it... as well as..." Here Toris rummaged through the case, "One scarf – colour blue with yellow ducks on it and... a copy – rather well-thumbed I have to admit – of Gogol's Dead Souls in Russian... yes, I know nobody will steal that..."

There was a shuffling on the bed behind him and a small, slim, effeminate hand waved at him.

"What, Feliks?" Toris asked exasperated, one hand over the mouthpiece.

Feliks blew on his drying nails, "Sweetie... who on earth would delve into that suitcase amongst those awful pink boxers... I mean honestly? Who would steal that scarf... ducks? They must have even worse dress sense than him!"

Toris shook his head, "That scarf means a lot to Mr Russia and if I don't get those things back he is going to kill me," he said and turned back to the telephone.

* * *

><p>In the hotel conference room...<p>

"Honhonhon... oh yes... zis is sooo wonderful..."

"France! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I am enjoying zis glass of French wine..."

"It's eleven o'clock in the bloody morning... hang on! French wine! Why not have an English cup of tea?"

"Ah but Arthur mon cher..."

"Don't bloody call me that..."

"Hey dude! We have to get back to this meeting, man! Before commie dude gets here. These Persian missiles, man..."

"Pershing, you great bloody fool..."

"That's what I said."

"Honhonhon..."

"Oh for heaven's sake..."

"So where is everybody else, Artie?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? Let's see... Germany should be here, Belgium, Italy, Norway, Denmark, Iceland, Canada..."

"I'm here!"

"Aw man... who said that? Is there a ghost in here?"

"I expect they'll all be here soon enough and we can get on with things... France will you bloody stop doing that! And pull your bloody trousers up! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Yeah dude, we need to get these missiles sorted before commie dude gets here..."

"Honhonhon, would you like to see my missiles, leetle Alfred?"

"What did he just say?"

"I think you're right, America we should discuss the placing of the missiles before..."

But before England could finish his speech, the door opened and Estonia walked in.

"Where's your boss?" England asked him.

"He's not here?" Eduard answered.

"Well... no... evidently not... anyone see a large mad Russian hiding, kolkolling or any of that other rubbish that he does? No? Then no, he's not here, beating someone's brains in with that pipe of his..."

"Hmm... he's not in his room either. He may be a bit annoyed about his suitcase being opened at the airport – someone stole his vodka," Estonia said tentatively.

There was silence. Everybody looked at each other nervously. Russia being 'a bit annoyed' could mean anything from all-out war within a ten mile radius, or just completely reducing a room to rubble within ten minutes and then passing out.

"We need to find him then... Oh my dear Lord, he could cause absolute chaos here in London and if he runs into some of the other Nations... I don't want my dear Capital City being reduced to rubble because that idiotic boss of yours has misplaced some items," England said.

Estonia nodded solemnly, he knew with bitter experience just what Russia was capable of when he was in a bad mood. He'd seen his boss go through whole German platoons in the War just because he ran out of vodka. This could be bad, very bad.

* * *

><p>Russia hummed happily as he trundled the trolley through the local Tesco. Latvia trailed behind him, biting her lip.<p>

"Sir? Shouldn't we get back? You've got your vodka and..." she began tremulously.

"Look, Latvia!" He almost yelled and picked up a packet of custard creams, "These are the biscuits that England serves up at conferences. I'm going to buy some!"

"Shh..." Latvia looked around nervously. They were not supposed to call each other by their Nation names when out in public.

"Wut?"

"Sir, you're supposed to call me Raivis when we're out and about," she said softly.

"Oh... then you should call me Ivan... or Vanya!"

"Erm... well... okay... Vanya."

Russia grinned happily, blushed, gave the trolley (or shopping cart) a shove, jumped on the back and whizzed down the aisle at a ridiculous speed, scattering shoppers as he went.

Latvia groaned and followed apprehensively. This was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

><p>Back at the hotel<p>

"So where is he likely to be?" England asked, pouring over a map of central London. He shoved France's feet off the table and ignored America's insistence of putting markers on the map and asking if they could go to the funfair.

"Is there a vodka distillery nearby?" Poland asked, nonchalantly filing a nail.

Lithuania rubbed his stomach, swallowed an antacid tablet and pulled the nailfile out of his friend's hand, "No... this is London," he said.

"Hmm... where would I go...? I would be in Soho..." Francis interjected and smiled knowingly at England.

England flushed bright red.

"Mr Russia won't be in Soho!" Estonia said, horrified.

"He doesn't like shopping?" America asked, completely innocently.

"Yeah... right... we'll go with that, shall we?" Poland said and shook his head.

"Honhonhon..." France sniggered, "Oh oui... I expect Mr Russia is out sampling the delights of the red light district..."

"Bloody pervert!" England shouted, utterly outraged.

"Mr Russia wouldn't have any idea what to do if..." Estonia interrupted.

"Damn right, like, what a loser..." Poland muttered.

"Red lights? Why do you have red street lights, Artie?" America asked.

"Shut up!"

"We have to find him... who knows what carnage he's causing out there on the street...?" Lithuania said and clutched his stomach. His stomach ulcer was playing up again – it always did when he got nervous – which was often, having lived with Russia for over a century.

"And I think he has Latvia with him," Estonia said quietly.

"Honhonhon, then I bet he is in a hotel room with the leetle Nation having fun!" France sniggered and was promptly slapped around the head by England.

"Not everyone is like you!" England told him.

"Poor little Latvina... poor little guy..." America said sadly.

"It's Latvia you big idiot!" England said.

America ignored him, "Right, guys! We have to rescue those cockney dudes out there and that little Latvina dude from the big Russkie dude!" America shouted and slammed his fist on the table.

"Is there a problem with little Vanya?" Ukraine said as she came in and then looked around the room.

* * *

><p>Latvia held onto Russia's arm and screamed. Russia beamed happily. The rollercoaster built up speed as it went flung them down the slope and Latvia leaned against the large Nation. Why was he not screaming?<p>

Russia laughed happily. So this is what capitalists did all day? He was having the best day since... well... for at least a few decades. He had a carrier bag full of vodka and chocolate. He'd bought his little Baltic a cassette tape of some pop music and he'd also found a funfair. How good was this?

Latvia threw up in a wastebin – again. She wondered how many times that day she was going to vomit.

Russia stood next to her, still grinning happily.

"You scream like a little girl," he told her.

She ignored him.

"Can we go on the bumper cars?" he asked her.

* * *

><p>Back at the hotel<p>

"So we split up and look for clues?" America yelled.

"Will you stop bloody yelling?" England shouted.

"Eastonia, you go with Miss Ukrainia there and look in the bars," America continued.

"It's Estonia and Ukraine, you fool," England said.

America ignored him, "Pol dude and Toris my main man – you go to the Imperial War Museum – big guy's probably in there – he's obsessed about the War..."

"Mr Amerika? I don't think Mr Russia will be in there... he doesn't like being reminded..." Lithuania began to say but was shouted down.

"Me, Artie and Francy-pants here will check out the Russian Embassy – I bet he's trying to dispose of little Latvina's body..."

There was a sob from Lithuania, Estonia put a hand on his shoulder, Ukraine shook her head – her boobs also shook - and France almost dropped his glass of wine in excitement.

Poland laughed, "This isn't a Scooby Doo episode, sweetie."

"Hell yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" America yelled and slammed out of the door. He came back in and said quietly, "Come on, Artie, Francy-pants... we have a rampaging fat commie bad guy to catch."

'Artie' sighed heavily and patted Lithuania on the back, "I'm sure everything will be alright," he said with not very much conviction.

* * *

><p>Russia strode through the streets of London carrying a giant purple teddy which happened to be sporting his red star medal.<p>

"Look, Latvia! Erm, I mean Raivis, a cinema!"

Latvia sighed heavily. They'd won, no correction, she'd won the teddy bear on the shooting gallery – three clean shots – much to Russia's amazement. And he'd insisted on pinning his medal to the teddy's chest and calling it 'General Ted'. Latvia felt a little embarrassed to be walking along with a grown man who was hugging a teddy.

"We'll go and watch a film!" Russia exclaimed and headed up the steps.

"Sir? I mean Vanya? Shouldn't we go back? You should be in that meeting and..."

She didn't have time to protest any more, Russia was already buying the tickets, "Three seats please for your 2 o'clock showing," the big Russian rumbled and smiled happily.

"Three tickets?" Latvia ventured. She looked around, hoping against hope that somehow Lithuania or Estonia had found them. There was nobody.

"Da, Comrade Teddy should have his own seat!" Russia announced.

Latvia sighed and was about to say that 'Comrade Teddy' was an inanimate object but decided against it.

* * *

><p>The 'Three-Legged Tart', Tottenham Road, London<p>

"I don't think Vanya's in here, Ed," Ukraine said, quite obviously, Eduard thought. There were no screams, no blood, nobody was impaled against the wall by a metal pipe. There was just the usual chitter chatter of Londoners having a quiet drink in a pub.

Estonia looked around nervously and adjusted his spectacles, "I suppose we'd better try further along then," he said.

"We'll just have a quick drink in here. Come on, I'll pay. I have an expense account from my government... They said I can have so much to keep an eye on Vanya for this trip..."

"We're not doing a good job though, are we?" Estonia muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, Miss Ukraine. I'll have a shandy, I think..."

"Oh Ed... have a proper drink!"

"Well... Miss Katya, I think that..."

"Two double vodkas, please, honey!" the Ukrainian woman shouted above the hubbub at the bartender and smiled at the Estonian.

Eduard sighed. Why did he have a feeling that this wasn't going to be a good idea?

**Author's Note: Yorkshire (or Bob) has been introduced before – in Revelations but thought I'd bring him in again.**

**Shandy – for my American readers, is a low alcoholic drink of lager or beer and lemonade.**

**Part 2 – Arthur spends the longest hour of his long life, a fight, misunderstandings and... the inspiration for one of the best-selling novel series of the Century...**


	25. Lost in London Part 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks to the following who reviewed/alerted/favourited/PMd:**

**PurpleDiamondDevil, PorkKage, Tari J. Deiter, No Nonsense 16, The Magnetic Witch, Midnight Rising, Terra Angel of Earth, skrillianmages, lazyday33, Betsybugaboo, Winter and her servant, SereneWorld, MissLuzLuna, EJM513, Daethtofools, VulcanBlood, GilanBraginski, DawnShine, Teh AWESOME BeastMODE6, Lala girl in lala land, Ignacia437, Fear My Awesomeness, Mr , Simonana, peppermint twertle, Beelzineff, Celtic Nasthca, NotWeird, IrishMaid, Pedro-IS-Madi12, AbsurdArtist, Cathrarg, Akazukinchan, Elizablue, Becky999, PrincessoftheGardens, Weap, Emichan and PhoenixWarrior, IrishMaid, Willow, Knakx, 4nim3fr33k, Silviias Kingslayer, Niji-chi, Warrior Orb5, Germanyisawesome-notPrussia, Kouryuu, Metaknight4ever, Ma-Chan, Koneko144, AFreezingFlame, Fire horse is Prussia awesome, Tobi's Only Girl, Maiya123, Sam2daXD, white eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, Blueladymare, wicked-midnight25, appledhead36, Myrna Maeve, Sadik3000, Animechic420, PhantomPrussia, chattie98, Koneko144, spygirl48, Jimmy-Taicho, xCharRawrx, .flowers, RavisLatvia, Art and Soul, Schizophrenic-unicorn, BlackLaceBeauty, Parawhoreanimegirl 11, AshyIggyBrows, FiresCreek, Xou, FrozenBrokenSunflower, SullyWullyBunny, JustAGirlWithAPen, ChubbyCubby23, SuperKamiGuru 1, LeonRaichu, chickenkitty, SchrapnelGirl, QueenOfThePolarBears, rubyredroses1, Tamarutaca, Alice Stein, chattie98, Ankhasia Riddle, xXTomatoBoxFairyXx, Oxenstierna D. Yuki-Rin, ZeroLuver567, YellowXelia, citrine sunflower, DefinitionOfMyself, 101Icestormxx and VengefulCat. And all my anonymous readers wherever you are.**

**Warnings for: smut, innuendo, swearing and silliness (and a piss-take of various movies and a well-known "novel")**

Chapter 25: Lost in London Part 2

Oxford Street

Twenty minutes, 1200 seconds… It doesn't sound very much does it? To Arthur it had been the longest twenty minutes of his very long life. He swore, again, for approximately the twentieth time since he'd found himself in this - his own personal hell.

"Damn and bloody blast, Alfred, why did you bloody well shut that bloody door?"

In answer, America shrugged and attempted to shove the said 'bloody door' open. It would not budge.

"Ah well, mes amies… eet appears we are going to be 'ere for a long time, so we can get to know each other better?" Francis purred.

This was precisely what made this hell.

The 'bloody door' in question was made of steel with small glass windows. In fact the whole structure - measuring 3 feet square - was steel with small glass apertures so that Arthur could see, tantalisingly, the people (and freedom) just feet away.

All in all, a British telephone kiosk was not an ideal place to be stuck in - and it was even more hellish to be trapped alongside a randy Frenchman with wandering hands and an oblivious American who seemed to be under the illusion they were in an action movie.

"I don't want to get to know you better, you French tart!" Arthur told Francis. "…And keep those bloody hands to yourself."

"Well, you should not have answered ze téléphone, mon ami."

"What the bloody hell does that have to do with your bloody hands?" Arthur shouted.

"Who was on the phone anyway, dude?" Alfred interrupted.

"Some fool said to me, 'Welcome to hell', and he was bloody right!"

"Ah oui, someone does not like you very much, Angleterre," Francis said sadly.

The three Nations had walked down Oxford Street looking, vainly, for signs of a large Russian, and they'd got caught up behind some kind of parade or carnival. Certainly, there were people dressed up, carnival floats and a New Orleans marching jazz band.

The telephone had rung and Arthur, foolishly he now realised, had stepped into the kiosk and answered, thinking, quite illogically, that Poland or possibly Lithuania, had rung them to tell them they'd found Russia. It wasn't. A strange voice - clearly disguised with some kind of voice modulator - hissed "Welcome to hell!" and hung up.

Before Arthur had managed to slam the receiver down, Francis and Alfred had blindly, like sheep, followed him into the kiosk and the latter had shut the door.

One person in a telephone kiosk was claustrophobic enough, two people was 'cosy' to say the least, three was a distinct 'squash'.

"It's been glued shut!" Alfred had yelled in Arthur's ear.

"I can bloody see that! Stop shouting, I'm stood next to you, not in bloody Paris!"

"Ahhhh, if only we were in gay Paris… eet eez soo beautiful…" Francis went off in a reverie and ignored Alfred's fist slamming against the door.

They'd shouted "help" and "m'aidez" (America shouted "Hey man! Mayday is the same in French and English! Woah!"). But this had no effect, they were now surrounded by a marching New Orleans Jazz Band and no-one could hear Arthur's cries of help over the sound of "When the Saints go marching in".

* * *

><p>Outside the Imperial War Museum<p>

Feliks turned to Toris, "Come on, sweetie, let's go and get a drink, I need one after going in there."

"I told them Mr Russia wouldn't be in there… nobody listens to me…" Toris rubbed his stomach, his nervous system playing up after Feliks had given an impromptu lecture about the Polish Home Army to a large contingency of wide-eyed schoolchildren.

"What sweetie?"

"Never mind…"

They strolled down the road, hand in hand, for once Feliks was not dressed in a skirt, but did have lipstick on and pearly pink nail varnish on his manicured nails. But, refreshingly no-one stared at two men holding hands.

* * *

><p>Having been in four public houses, drank two vodkas and two shandies (he'd managed to persuade Ukraine that vodka did not agree with him), Estonia was feeling a little giddy. Giddiness was not a normal feeling for the usually staid, cautious, sensible Baltic. He held hands blushingly with Ukraine, who bounced alongside him pointing out the various goods in the shop windows and pointing at the various sights.<p>

Eduard Von Bock, despite his being several hundred years old, had rarely held hands with a woman - and certainly not a female Nation - and grinned stupidly.

"I wonder where we'll find Vanya and little Raivis?" Katya said, breaking into his daydreams.

"Eh? Wut? I mean er what? Mr Russia? Oh yes…"

* * *

><p>"Poor little Penny!" Russia exclaimed as they stepped out of the movie theatre. "But I'm glad those little mice saved her in the end!"<p>

Latvia shook her head. It was always touch and go taking Russia to see a movie. In the Soviet Union, many western films weren't shown anyway, but sometimes the Baltics went to see foreign films over the border in Finland. Usually, like today, they stuck with Disney productions. War films were a no-no of course, any films showing history were also out as Russia would shout at the screen about historical inaccuracies (he may not remember what he had breakfast but he could remember who killed/married who in 1459), any romance films were also out - he would become very morose and start drinking, singing love songs and then slurring about his 'little Yao'.

"Yes, I'm relieved as well, Sir," Latvia answered, leading the way. In fact, Latvia was relieved she'd managed to distract Russia from launching himself at the screen at 'Madam Medusa' by waving a huge bucket of popcorn in front of him.

Russia stopped dead as a thought occurred to him, he grinned broadly, "Latvia! Do you think there really is a Rescue Aid Society underneath the United Nations building?"

* * *

><p>"It's a damn shame that this telephone kiosk wasn't like the Tardis and bigger on the inside…" Arthur said sadly.<p>

"Ah oui, like my pants, honhonhon…"

"Arthur! Tell him to stop wiggling his hips like that!"

"Je danse!"

"There isn't bloody room!"

"Ah oui, we should have some wine, non?"

"Where the bloody hell did you get that bottle and glasses from?"

"Mon pantalon!"

"Oh dear God…"

The phone rang…

* * *

><p>Russia was having one of the best days of this current century, he'd been to a fairground, he had acquired a teddy (he was still undecided whether to call it 'Comrade Teddy' or 'General Ted'), watched a movie (he loved talking cartoon animals) and best of all, was spending time with his smallest Baltic.<p>

"Shall we go to the zoo?" he asked her.

"The zoo? Well… I think we should really be getting back," Latvia answered.

Russia decided otherwise. He really did not want to spend the afternoon stuck in a conference room with loud-mouthed America yelling about justice, England moaning about the quality of the biscuits, and France making obscene gestures. In short, he was playing truant.

The large Russian tucked 'Comrade Teddy' under his arm and jumped onto a sight-seeing bus that had stopped at the traffic lights.

Latvia gasped, "You can't…"

But he could and he did.

He waved happily at her as she ran after the bus. She managed to jump on the rear platform and Russia pulled her into his arms, "Very good! Let's go and see the Queen and then we go to the zoo!"

Latvia shook her head, pulling herself free, reluctantly following the Russian up the steps to the open-air upper deck of the bus. "I doubt the Queen will want to see you," she muttered.

"I've met lots of queens," Russia answered, flumping down in a seat. He grinned at some Japanese tourists, who automatically flinched.

"Privet! Where did you get those hats?" He asked them. (Two were wearing over-large Union Jack hats.) One shook his head hurriedly, another indicated their cameras and tried to say, in broken English that they were foreign tourists.

Russia grinned maniacally, "I like your hat! It is very cheery! I want one!"

Latvia sat next to him, and smiled apologetically around her.

Russia's intimidating aura intensified, "I've been to Japan… many years ago… I was going to visit in 1945, but my boss said no…" he continued and his violet eyes darkened.

"Oh look… there's Buckingham Palace where the Queen lives!" Latvia said hurriedly.

Russia smiled, his aura diminishing as he took possession of his new hat - which he plonked on Latvia's head. "It suits you, little one!" he said happily, his mood changing like the weather (it had changed from foggy and cold to sunny and warm).

No-one said anything.

* * *

><p>"I don't know this part of London," Feliks said, "Liet, what does it say on the map?"<p>

"It's not on the map," Toris answered, holding his tourist map of London upside-down, "Strange… Knockturne Alley… ne, it's not on here…"

They looked around them. It was almost as if they'd been transported back a century. The street was cobbled, dark and damp. The shops had peculiar signs on them: "Clearance sale: bat ears, dragons blood, printer parchment - half price" and "Potions while you wait".

"Perhaps they'll sell me an antacid medicine?" Toris said pointing to the latter one, which had a strange picture of a hideous woman in a large hat holding a broom and a bubbling vial aloft.

Feliks almost jumped out of his skin, and then grabbed Toris by the arm, dragging the bewildered Lithuanian around a corner.

"Feliks! Stop pulling me… what…?" but his protests were muffled by Feliks' ridiculously large hand on his mouth.

"Shush Liet, look… it's Princess Crazy…" Poland pointed to a shady figure entering an equally shady looking shop.

"Was that Miss Belarus?" Lithuania whispered.

Poland gave him a despairing look. "Come on, sweetie, who else would be around here, in this part of the city?"

"Well, it's certainly not Oxford Street is it?" Toris whispered.

They peered around the corner and watched as the feminine figure, pulled back her hood to reveal long silver-blond hair tied back with a blue ribbon.

"I'd recognise that evil aura anywhere!" Poland said with satisfaction.

"You say that about Mr Russia!" Toris interjected.

"He doesn't wear a frock, Liet," Poland answered and then added, "Well, not recently anyway."

In the dark recesses of the shop, Belarus - for it was indeed her - was perusing the shelves with an expert air.

"Can I help you, Miss… er….?" asked the shop-keeper, a particularly greasy looking individual in a black cloak.

Belarus spun round and glared at the man, "Yes, you can," she said.

The man, in his own world a high-ranking individual of a secret order, a man without scruples or moral compass, a man who counted the most villainous creatures as his friends, stepped back and felt goose-bumps break out on his arms, the hair on his neck standing on end.

"You've been in here before," he said quietly.

"Yes, I have," Belarus said, with a horrid smile, "I'm glad you remember me."

Remember her? The man could not forget her. He'd had plenty of sleepless nights since that day she'd come into his shop to buy a 'love potion'. He'd assumed she was just another one of the ignorant airheaded teenagers who came into his shop having got lost on the tourist trail and wanted to buy a love potion to try and ensnare their favourite popstar. He'd realised quickly that this was not the case when she'd pressed a knife against his throat and pinned him to his own counter and hissed at him that she wanted a 'potion that would ensnare the senses, bewitch the mind…' The man had made the mistake of saying that a beauty such as her did not need a potion and then… calling her 'Dear'. How could such a small, slight girl have such strength? She'd spun him round three times and slammed him against a wall, her knife (which she caressingly called 'Natasha') millimetres from his left eyeball.

"This love potion…" she squeezed the glass vial so hard it broke in her hand.

The man gulped and reached inside his cloak for his wand.

"…is rubbish… my brother did not fall in love with me… he broke wind so hard that one of Kamchatka's volcanoes erupted and then… do you know what he did?" she asked.

The man shook his long greasy hair, his hand inside his cloak gripping his wand. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"He. Fell. Asleep." She said, in utter disgust.

"Ah well…"

"I want my money back and a free potion," she asserted.

He made his move, as a chief amongst his order, the top pupil in his class for 'defence', he was fairly confident that she would soon be at his mercy. He was wrong. In fact he was so wrong, he should have taken the number 10 bus to Wrong City.

"Expelliarmus!" he yelled, pointing his wand at Belarus.

Nothing happened, well actually something did happen. Belarus snarled and leapt over the counter, grabbed the man's collar and pulled him down to her level of 5 foot 4 inches.

"I don't like you, you're a bigger idiot than Gilbert," she told him.

The man trembled and tried again, "Avada…" he got no further, his wand splintered and broke.

"Silly spells don't work on such as me…" Belarus told him.

Around the corner, Toris watched as the woman he had loved since the 17th Century threw a grown man through a shop window.

"Ah, isn't she wonderful?" he sighed.

Feliks shook his head, "She could have a great career as an all-in wrestler," he said.

* * *

><p>"I've just seen England, America, France and a strange man in that telephone box!" Russia exclaimed and pointed at the telephone kiosk.<p>

Latvia shook her head, honestly, Mr Russia's delusions were getting worse. She smiled again at the cowering Japanese tourists and shook her head, indicating that she was his carer and the bus sped on.

* * *

><p>However, Mr Russia was indeed correct. England, America, France and a 'strange man' were still in the telephone box.<p>

The 'strange man' was Pierre, Francis' representative in London. Francis has found a ten pence piece in his pocket, which was hailed immediately as their saviour.

"Ring for help!" Arthur had said.

Which Francis duly did.

Pierre (or 'another stupid Frenchman with sex on his brains' as Arthur called him) had turned up, opened the door, stepped in and closed it… only to find that they were trapped again.

In between all this, the telephone had rung three times in twenty minutes.

Each time, Arthur had picked it up to be told that if they 'tried to escape they would be shot'. The second time the disguised voice said this, Arthur had replied "How the bloody hell are you going to do that? There's a ton of people outside this bloody box!" Which was true - there was - a one-man band had now taken up residence outside and was actually taking in quite a bit of money playing dreadful versions of popular soap opera themes.

"I have a sniper rifle trained on you at all times, Mr England!" the voice had replied - somewhat huffily, Arthur thought, and hung up.

"Pierre!" Francis hugged his fellow Frenchman, who tried to inch away, but in the confines of the telephone box this was not easy.

America was sat on the floor, attempting to dig his way through the floor with a spoon. "This is like that film, The Great Escape, Artie, where they had to dig their way out of that P.O.W. camp and…"

"Except it's not, is it? We're stuck in a bloody telephone box with some nutcase sniper assassin out to kill us…"

"Kill you, mon Angleterre, he did not say he would kill us…"

"You can bloody shut up, Francy-pants. Why didn't you ring the bloody police? Why ring for this idiot?"

"I did not have a corkscrew, non…" Francis answered and held up his bottle of wine dejectedly.

Pierre, who was often called in by the French Embassy to bail Francis out of police stations (several times - usually for 'lewd conduct'), was a nervous-looking man with a facial tic, prematurely grey hair and a permanently worried expression on his face. Arthur often felt very sorry for him.

* * *

><p>In the Giddy Tart public house, Estonia snapped his ever-present briefcase shut, shook hands with the landlord and several men in suits and told them 'it was nice doing business with them'. Katya swallowed the rest of her vodka, cheekily pinched Estonia's bottom and they left, Katya swaying quite a bit.<p>

"What did you shell them? I mean er… sell them?" Katya slurred in Eduard's ear.

"The Tower of London," Eduard said with a smile.

"You can't shell that! It doesn't belong to you!" She cried and then thumped him playfully, "You're sho funny, Ed!"

Eduard just smiled and patted his briefcase, it wasn't far from the truth, he'd just sold 1/1000th shares in a piece of land called 'Canary Wharf', land that actually didn't specifically belong to him. But Estonia never dealt with specifics - not when money was concerned. So far, he'd amassed a portfolio of several properties - in various countries, hundreds of acreage of prime real estate in Finland, Sweden, Soviet Russia, the UK and Denmark (the latter when he'd been under the control of Denmark) and multi-national chain of hotels.

* * *

><p>"Look, Latvia! Wolves!" Russia forgot (of course) that he was supposed to call Latvia 'Raivis' and dashed off, his scarf flapping behind him, 'Comrade Ted' under his arm, the comically over-sized Union Jack felt hat under his other arm (Latvia had refused to wear it).<p>

Latvia trudged after him. They were, of course, at London Zoo. Having completely terrified all the tourists on the 'hop-on hop-off' bus, Russia had jumped off and declared he was going to the zoo, paid the entrance fee and bounded in.

Latvia sighed. She just hoped, against hope, that he wouldn't show them both up by chatting to the wolves as if they were dogs, or even worse, getting into the enclosure and stroking them. She and her fellow Baltics had had to drag him out of Moscow Zoo for precisely this reason many years ago. He seemed to have an affinity with the creatures.

However, when she caught up with him, it wasn't wolves that were getting his attention - it was pandas.

"Look, Latvia! Ching Ching and Chia Chia!" he said excitedly.

"Yes, Sir…" she said and held out an ice cream cornet for him - ice cream often calmed him down.

He accepted it. "I think they are hoping that they will mate…" Russia nodded at the notice at the notice on the side of the enclosure. Sure enough the zoo did hope to be the first Western zoo to successfully breed a panda cub.

"Awww.. Perhaps they will…"

"Nyet… Ching Ching is not pregnant," Russia said confidently.

Latvia shook her head, how the hell does he know? She thought.

* * *

><p>"So you used our last bit of small change to ring for help and we get this idiot… excuse me, Pierre…"<p>

"Ah oui.. Erm…"

"… this idiot Frenchman… another bloody Frenchman…" Arthur had been ranting for about ten minutes non-stop, without drawing breath - other than to answer the telephone to yell down it as the increasingly sinister voice said, "I have a gun trained on you."

"Bloody buggering, sodding, bloody hell…"

"That's two bloodies," Alfred pointed out, unhelpfully.

"I'm aware of that," Arthur growled as his headache grew exponentially with the row outside - the one-man band that had taken up residence outside the door and played nothing but 'I do like to be beside the seaside' had been replaced by a half a dozen Scottish pipers.

As the bagpipes launched into yet another rendition of 'Scotland the Brave', the phone rang - again.

Arthur picked it up, shoving Francis' hand away and shushing Alfred's humming, "What the fucking bloody hell do you want with me, you damnable ignorant tosspot of a disgrace of a human sodding being?" he screamed down the mouthpiece.

There was a shocked silence at the other end of the telephone and then the mysterious voice, sounding slightly hysterical, whined in a much higher octave, "I'm going to tell on you! You'll regret this!"

England slammed the phone down, batted Francis' hand away again, and turned to America, "America, I know who it is!" he said.

"Hey man! You never call me America!" it was true, he didn't. "You always call me Alfred…" It was true, he did.

England shook his head, the pipers outside began playing 'Flower of Scotland' and England's headache evolved into a migraine.

"Voulez-vous un glass of vino, mon cheri?" Francis asked tentatively.

"No, I bloody well do not… I'm going to bloody well kill that kid… Wait a minute…. France! Of course!"

Francis frowned, "Quoi?" he asked.

"Give me that corkscrew," England said, taking it out of the Frenchman's hand.

"Ah oui, you wish another bottle to be opened?"

"No, you bloody fool, we… meaning America.. Is going to dig us out of here."

"I am?" America asked, "What with?"

"This!" England handed him the corkscrew. "I mean really!? I escaped from those idiot macaroni brothers during the war at least three times and if it wasn't for bloody Germany, I would have gotten away with it!"

* * *

><p>"Your female panda is not pregnant," the big Russian told the confused zoo-keeper, "… but Tasha, your female brown bear is going to have cubs this spring!"<p>

"I'm sorry erm… Sir?" the zoo-keeper was about to question the tall blond foreign gentleman, but said 'gentleman' was being ushered out of the zoo by a small blond girl dressed as a boy, who indicated that he/she was the man's 'carer'.

* * *

><p>"I can handle my drink!" Ukraine told Estonia indignantly as she practically poured out of the taxi and onto the pavement. She landed in a heap on the kerb and giggled hysterically, and then began singing an old Ukrainian folk tune. Estonia attempted to lift her by her armpits to drag her into the hotel and ended up sitting on the pavement beside her.<p>

A passing tourist threw some coins at them, and Ukraine, emboldened, dragged herself and Estonia to their feet and danced a mad folk dance - flinging Estonia round and round. The coins poured in along with loud applause.

* * *

><p>"Do you think she saw us, Pol?" Toris asked his friend, as they re-entered Hotel Majestic.<p>

Feliks shook his head and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "You need to chill, like, Liet."

"Chill? We still haven't found Mr Russia's suitcase!"

"Now then!" The loud, flat-vowelled Yorkshire accent rang out around the hotel entrance hall.

The two Nations spun round to find themselves face to face with Yorkshire's ruddy face and… was that a ferret peeking out of his concierge uniform?

"Erm yes? Mr Yorkshire?"

"Wipe thee feet!"

"Erm thank you…" Both Nations hurriedly wiped their shoes on the mat.

"And… eh?

"Da? I mean er yes?"

"Tha forgot this bloody great suitcase, it belongs to that bloody great Russkie idiot…"

"Oh Mr Yorkshire! Thank you, thank you, spasiba!"

"Aaah well… never mind all that nonsense, here's yer case," Yorkshire said and threw said case at them.

"Where did you find it?" Toris asked, looking at the broken lock and frowning.

Yorkshire looked shifty and didn't answer but moved to open the door (even though it was a revolving one) for the next guest.

"Mr Yorkshire?" Toris tried again.

"Bob! Answer him or we'll tell Den and his band of Vikings to turn York into Jorvik again!" Poland intervened.

Yorkshire frowned and fed his ferret a titbit, "I didn't steal it, honest!" he said quickly.

Toris opened the case, "The scarf's gone!" he said, utterly shocked.

"Yer can't blame me! I mean who'd want a bloody scarf with yellow flippin' ducks on it?"

"Ha! How do you know it had yellow ducks on it?" Toris asked.

"Bloody 'ell, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition?" Yorkshire said, utterly appalled, but his face now very very red.

"If I don't get that scarf back, Mr Russia will kill me!" Toris said and rubbed his stomach as his ulcer began to play up.

"Give him back the scarf, you welly-wearing idiot!" Poland told Yorkshire.

"Ha! I ain't scare of you, yer skirt-wearing nelly!" Yorkshire said, illogically as Poland was wearing trousers that day.

The 'great Polska' wasted no more time and launched himself at the Yorkshireman, taking him down and pinned him to the ground.

"Oh dear…" Toris said quietly.

"Give it him back!"

"No! I bloody love it! Nobody has ever knitted me a bloody scarf! I live up there in the bloody wilds of bloody Yorkshire, I need it more than that great bloody…"

"Privet Mr Yorkshire!" came a chirpy voice.

Yorkshire and Polska both looked up from grappling each other on the floor of the hotel lobby. A pair of huge army boots met their eyes.

Russia grinned, reached down and pulled at the blue wool peeking out from under the Yorkshireman's uniform. "Thank you for looking after my scarf!" Russia chirruped.

Yorkshire stood up hurriedly, rubbing his (quite filthy) neck, "Aye… that's what I was doing… aye…" he mumbled.

Russia leaned in close, his purple irises flashing, "Because you wouldn't steal my precious scarf from me, would you, Mr Yorkshire?" he rumbled.

Yorkshire shook his head as he dangled from Russia's hand, the scarf still wrapped around his neck.

"By the way… I like your little pet," Russia patted the ferret, which immediately ran down Yorkshire's trousers. "Come on, little Latvia. Oh and Toris?"

Toris stepped forward, shaking.

"Can you give Estonia a hand with my sestra outside - she needs carrying in. She's being silly."

Toris' eyes lit up, "Natalya! My one and only…" he murmured.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong sister. As Toris dreamt of carrying Belarus in his strong arms through the hotel… he found Ukraine and Estonia (mainly the latter) pocketing large amounts of loose change.

* * *

><p>"I bloody hate you lot." The speaker was, of course, England.<p>

The targets of his ire were America, France and Pierre.

They were sat in a police cell having been arrested for vandalism, willful destruction of State property, breach of the peace, civil disturbance, assault and resisting arrest.

"Man! I told you that a corkscrew wasn't going to get us outta there!"

"Alfred, just shut up."

"Oui and zat Scottish monsieur was not very happy when you told him to stick his bagpipe up his…"

"Shut up, Francy-pants, he was asking for it."

"Oui, Monsieur Angleterre, slamming zat Scottish man's head against ze telephone did not help matters."

"And you can bloody shut up as well, Pierre."

"Wait! I can hear someone coming. Obviously, they've realised that we're very important people and…"

"Hell yeah, man!"

"… apart from you, of course, America…"

"… ah oui!"

"… and you, idiot France… and they've come to bail me out because otherwise the meeting cannot possibly…" But Arthur was cut off by a familiar voice.

"It wasn't my rifle!"

"Your fingerprints were all over it, young man," a police officer answered.

"Well… yeah… but it was Uncle Den's! I was just looking after it!" came the high-pitched boy's voice.

"In you go, we're ringing your parents now."

"Nooooooo… I'll be grounded forever! You can't do this to me!"

England suddenly perked up and stepped towards the bars of his cell and peered through. What he saw obviously cheered him immensely as he began to dance around, "Hahaha! Yes! You young varmint! You should be in prison after the hell you put me through!" he yelled.

America clapped his hand on the Englishman's shoulder, "Let it out, bro… I mean that Scottish piper dude should be locked up. His Flowers of the Brave was rubbish."

"Oui, Angleterre, have a glass of wine!"

"Aaaaaargh!" England screamed, as his mental state finally collapsed.

In the next cell, his agitator smiled, "Soon, England, soon," he whispered, "Well… as soon as I get Sweden and Finland to let me out again on my own…" he added.

A few hours later

"I've had a great day!" Russia announced to the rest of the conference attendees.

England was silent - he nursed a bruised pride and a stifling migraine - France was absent (he and Pierre were still in the police cell 'for being French in a confined space'), Ukraine was laid on the floor with a wet flannel over her eyes and moaning softly, Toris was popping antacid tablets and had one hand on Poland who was making threatening gestures through the window at the scruffy and slightly beaten-looking concierge, Estonia was counting money, Latvia had stolen England's migraine tablets and was taking several with a very large vodka. Only America seemed to be present, "Hell yeah man! It was brilliant. Me and Artie-dude, Francy and his boyfriend dude got stuck in a telephone box!" he yelled.

* * *

><p>Over at the Majestic Hotel, a sinister-looking woman in a blue dress with white pinafore, long silvery blond hair streaking down her back slipped past the reception and made her way to room 101. She held a bag full of 'brother-trapping apparatus'. "This time, he is mine," she said with an evil chuckle.<p>

She picked the lock and stepped inside.

"Bruder…" she said in her sweetest voice.

What followed was a surprise to both her and the occupant.

Epilogues

The next day…

London Zoo announced that the two Kodiak brown bears lent to them from Moscow Zoo had successfully bred and the female was expecting cubs in the Spring.

At the Majestic Hotel, London (not the Hotel Majestic where a top-secret NATO meeting was being held) an American man, looking exhausted, hollow-eyed and shaken, was checking out.

He rubbed his wrists and hoped his suit jacket would cover the rope burns, his whole body ached - including places he didn't realise he had.

"Mr Grey? Mr Christian Grey?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes, that's me," he said, his voice betraying a shake. He scanned the reception, half hoping, half dreading to see her.

"Just sign here…" the receptionist handing him the register, "Did you have a good night's sleep, Sir?" she asked conversationally, not really caring.

"Not really…" Mr Grey said with half a sob and ruminated on the marks on his bottom and whether he would ever erase that voice from his head, "брат, брат, брат…." That had punctuated each smack on his arse.

**Notes:**

**Can anyone guess what film Russia and Latvia had seen?**

**The Soviet Union declared war on Japan at midnight 8th August 1945 after the defeat of Nazi Germany. Plans were drawn up for an invasion of the Japanese mainland - which were unnecessary as Japan surrendered**

**Брат - Russian/Belorussian for brother**

**References to various films/novels - sorry couldn't resist.**

**Getting stuck in a phone box can happen - this did happen to me once many years ago - but not alongside two Frenchmen and an American.**

**I don't think London zoo has ever had Kodiak bears, but they did have pandas there at one time in the 1970s.**

**Possible next chapters: Russia and the 'Stans, China pays a visit, Flashbacks - the Nations recall when they first met Russia. **


	26. Flashback Part I

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks everyone who reviewed/alerted/favourited and PM'd this story.**

**This chapter is basically everyone's (well everyone in this particular chapter - not all the Hetalia characters) memories of their first (or almost first) meeting with Russia.**

**Warnings: Creepiness, Prussia, the usual swearing.**

Chapter 26 - Flashback Part I

_Thump, thump, thump._

_There was no crunching sound, as there ought to be when a man walked on snow; no, only the loud thudding noise one might expect if a pack of bears attempted to climb some steps. That was the sound that announced the approach of the Russian army._

_Gilbert and his Teutonic Knights stood their ground, though one of them whimpered a bit. The Mighty Prussia dug his heels into his horse and rode to meet the personification of the icy Nation itself, the great Kingdom of Rus._

_A man like a mountain, made as wide as he was tall by the amount of coats and furs he was wearing, loomed onto the battlefield. He rode no horse, and was as tall as Gil regardless. Ivan Braginski loomed over the Prussian, his hard violet eyes turning to purple fire as a matching aura swirled around him in a shape not unlike wings._

_"Privet!" Ivan chirped, but there was a dark edge to his greeting – and not just because he spoke Russian. "You can all go back home now, da?"_

_"No fucking ass wa- hey!" Gilbert stumbled and nearly fell from his horse as his mount reared and tried to back away from the advancing Russian and his army of madmen. With a wave of relief, Prussia saw his men catch him up, organizing themselves into lines behind him with military precision only Teutonic Knights possessed._

_"You will go back to your silly home and your sillier brother, little Gilbert," The temperature dropped several degrees as Russia spoke, forcing Gil to drape his cloak around him so he didn't freeze, and eyes that the Prussian could have sworn were purple had taken on an icy blue tint. "Or I will pummel your head into the ground."_

_Ivan held up a wooden implement which, presumably, was the item with which he meant to carry out his threat, and stepped forward menacingly._

_'Holy shit,' Gil thought, and hid behind Big Dave. Before his eyes the deranged Nation sprouted wings of purple eyes and horns of frozen Prussian tears, and the demon of winter made all hell break loose._

"Or something like that, anyway," Gil mumbled, as Ukraine and Poland burst into loud guffaws.

"Demon of winter," Poland gasped out, clutching Lithuania's sleeve in an effort to not fall under the table. "Man, that's like, hilarious."

"Oh Gilbert, you do tell a good story," Ukraine laughed. "It must be all that journal-writing."

"I don't keep no fucking diary!" Gilbert yelled, his cheeks flushing. "Alright then, Big Boobs, what did you think of Russia the first time you met him?"

A dreamy look of remembrance glazed Katya's eyes. "Ah, I've known Vanya since he was only a baby Nation. He was so very little back then..."

"Makes a bloody change..." Gil muttered.

"Let her tell the story!" Belarus snapped at him, her knife shining threateningly.

_Kiev stood in the doorway, her scarf flapping in the wind as she shielded her eyes from the gale. Platinum blonde hair flew out behind her like a flag as she struggled against the wind to catch a glimpse of her little brother._

_Vanya sat cross-legged on the ground outside, a wolf pup at his feet, which he stroked occasionally. He seemed to enjoy being outside, even when it was as cold as this. "It makes me feel closer to my people, sestra," He told Kiev when she asked him why. "And all the animals are out here."_

_As Katyusha had half expected, a flurry of snowflakes began to fall from the sky, staining the ground white wherever they fell. One landed on Ivan's head, and he looked up, amazed and confused._

_"What was that, sestra?" He called to Katya, as another snowflake found its home on his outstretched hand._

_"That is snow, little Vanya," For the first few weeks after Ivan had been born, blizzards had raged outside the big house, so vicious that it was impossible to even contemplate going outside. After that, however, it had snowed very little, and never when Vanya had been outside. This was the young boy's first encounter with snow._

_Ivan considered the cold, wet snowflake slowly melting on his hand, hesitated, and promptly burst into tears._

_On a reflex reaction, Rodina rushed out of the house like lightning, almost bowling Kiev over in her haste to gather Ivan into her arms, murmuring comfort into his hair._

_Katya's skin prickled with jealousy. "She's never been like that with me," The teenage Nation grumbled to herself. "If I cry it's always 'Ekaterina Braginskaya, you are a Nation and Nations do not cry. How do you expect to be strong and powerful if you sob over a broken spade?'"_

_Rodina stormed back inside, a wailing Ivan still in her arms, and a confused wolf cub in his arms. Katya sighed and strode after her mother, helping her put Ivan to bed. Within seconds, Vanya was sound asleep under his yellow duvet, the wolf cub gnawing thoughtfully on his pillow. Kiev shut the door as quietly as she could, and turned to face her mother._

_"You made Rus cry," Rodina accused, those purple eyes that were so similar to Ivan's darkening._

_"I did not... wait, what do you mean 'Rus'?" Katya began to panic as realisation dawned on her; the reason why Rodina was so protective of Ivan, but not of her. "I am the personification of the Kievan Rus! I will be a strong, mighty Nation!"_

_Rodina shook her head, blonde hair bouncing as she did so. "Nyet, my daughter. One day Kiev and Rus will be separate, and you will personify Kiev." Mother Russia patted her swollen belly. "She will have the Polotsk region, and the three of you will come to rule Northern Europe."_

_"But... but..." Tears came to Kiev's eyes. "Fine, then! But if I don't get to be Rus, then... then... maybe I'll marry Bulgaria!" Kiev stomped down the corridor as loudly as she could, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her and leaning against it._

_'I hope I don't actually have to marry Bulgaria now...' she thought as she flopped down on her bed._

"So yes, little Ivan was a cutie but I got some of my land back from him…" Ukraine smiled at the memory. Who'd have thought you could trade a whole tract of land for a warm woolly scarf?

Everyone shivered.

Someone dealt the next hand.

It was Friday night at the Braginski household. Which meant Poker Night and Russia was out on business. His parting, weird sing-song comment was: "Have a good time, kids, I'll be back soon… I just have to go visit my boss!"

Normally, Poker Night meant just the Baltics and some of the Nordics (with Gilbert as well of course) and only when Russia was out. Russia and games of poker did not go well together. He often forgot what he was playing and would shout "Snap!" at inopportune moments and grab all the money and often when he lost he would slam his huge fist through the table… or worse, through someone's head.

Unfortunately though, Poland had turned up, as had Ukraine and with her, Belarus. The latter had been utterly distraught when she found Russia not at home and had had to be restrained from flying out to Moscow to be with her dear brother.

No-one knew why they'd got onto this subject. Who'd started it. When they'd first met Russia, their first memories of the large Arctic Nation.

"The first time I met Mr Russia was here in this house," Latvia said timorously and ignored Gilbert nudging and winking at her salaciously.

"Kesese! Big fat commie bastard almost trod on her… Toris called big balls Raivis here a girl. Toris is a fucking girl…"

"Stop calling my brother fat! He is not fat. It is all muscle!" Belarus shrieked.

"Yeah.. In his fucking head!" Gilbert said and then was chased around the table by Belarus and her knife.

"So when did you first meet Mr Russia, Toris?" Latvia asked, her eyes wide, ignoring Gilbert's cries of "Fuuuuck…. Get mad Princess Crazy off me!"

Toris shook his head, "Never mind…" he said, shivering, despite the central heating being on full.

"Go on, you never told me," Poland said.

"Yeah, go on, Toris… come on, tell your Auntie Katya," Ukraine said, and then added as an afterthought, "Belarus, will you stop chasing little Kaliningrad around the house!"

Gilbert stopped dead, "I ain't no fucking Kaliningrad, Miss Double D…"

"Don't be rude to my sestra, you little…"

But Toris was not listening. He mind sped back over 5 centuries.

The meeting still haunted his dreams and dogged his nightmares. Russia often featured in his nightmares - usually over ten foot tall dwarfing his surroundings bringing with him winter storms and biting cold.

"Go on, Toris… tell us. Was Mr Russia in battle or…"

"… drunk?"

"No… none of those things," Toris shivered.

"Did he tell you he was going to take your head off and give it to his mad Tsar boss as a present?" Gilbert asked, the memory making him shiver.

"No…"

"Or tell you he was going to keep you as a pet?" Finland asked and then took a shot of vodka (he usually rarely drank, only on poker nights with the Baltics), Sweden patted his arm reassuringly.

"No…"

"Oh for God's sake…"

_It was a cold winter. There are winters that freeze the ground making it hard for the people to bury their dead, but you know that spring is around the corner. There are winters that seem to go on forever. And there are winters that freeze the blood. It was a long, cold, dark winter._

_Toris was walking his dogs on the border of his country. He told them that in the south the sun shone and it was warm and one day it would be warm again (although he didn't believe it at the time). Toris wore so many layers he could barely move. His dogs were good, well-trained dogs - hunting dogs in fact - yet as they approached a bridge they suddenly stopped and would go no further. They began to whine and tremble and then Toris saw the figure at the other side of the bridge._

_The figure was of a youngish boy - not much older than himself, not much bigger than himself at that time… He was dressed in rags, a fur hat on his head. He looked as if he'd had a hard time._

_The figure approached and Toris realised that this was not just a boy from the next village, there was an aura about him. He was a Nation like himself._

_"Are you a Nation?" he'd asked._

_The boy had answered, violet eyes lighting up, "Da! I'm not very strong or big at the moment," he'd answered in a strange chirpy high-pitched voice that was completely at odds with his appearance. "The Tartars have not been very good to me… but one day I will be big and strong…"_

_Lithuania shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, his dogs were practically crawling on the floor trembling to get away from the strange boy._

_The boy drew closer and Lithuania resisted the urge to step back. Who on earth was he? Those purple eyes were fixed on him and Lithuania felt as if the marrow in his bones would freeze._

_"And when I am stronger and bigger we will be best friends!" The boy said, smiling._

_Lithuania had never seen such a scary smile._

_"Why can't we be friends before then?" he said, his voice stuttering, he tried again to calm his dogs, and tried to ignore the fact that all the birds and creatures of the forest around them had gone silent. Snowflakes began to fall…_

_"No we can't… I don't have enough strength. One day we will be best friends and be together forever…"_

_Lithuania felt as if his blood had frozen. He tried to swallow and couldn't. Why was he so frightened? There was a horrid sense of dread around the other Nation but before Lithuania could answer, the boy had already turned and stepped back across the bridge and disappeared into the wilderness of the forest._

There was a collective shudder around the table as Lithuania finished telling his story. Toris smiled nervously, took a bit gulp of his vodka and gestured to Poland.

"What about you, Feliks?" he asked, eager to deflect attention from himself.

Poland took his time in answering, "Like, the first time I met Braginski was totally the 13th Century. You guys don't wanna hear about that, though. It was mostly a bunch of dudes trying to get the Baltic Nations to convert to Christianity or something… I dunno, I wasn't listening."

"There's a surprise," Latvia thought.

"I guess probably the first time I met Braginski that he wasn't trying to kick my arse was the start of the Great Northern War in 1700."

Toris looked uncertain. Den grinned and shouted, "Hell yeah, man! That was when I was married to Norgie!"

"Hmmm," Berwald grunted and Pol and started the story…

_It was the turn of the 1700s and Denmark's hair hadn't seen a comb for at least three centuries. Feliks was wearing his brand-new Polish cavalry uniform; a handmade black jacket that perfectly complemented the white shirt and dark great trousers that went with it, brown soft leather riding boots and…_

"Earth to Princess Polska, no-one gives a toss what you were wearing!" Prussia yelled. Ukraine booted him under the table and he yelped and shut up.

"Well… sorreee…" Feliks muttered, affronted. "I just thought it was, like, important to the story, that's all."

_Poland was on his way to a war council, which was a complete downer. He sighed thinking about it. "Straight out of one war and into another," he said into empty air. "Honestly! You sign a treaty with the Ottoman Empire and Sweden comes out of nowhere with his little boy king and starts acting like a complete dick."_

_Pol was last to arrive at the war council. Saxony was polishing his shield with a look on his face like he'd smelled some bad cheese. Denmark was well on his way to being drunk (not that he was ever completely sober). Norway was building a house of cards, and Poland's boss, Augustus, had actually fallen asleep in his beer. Only Lithuania had been waiting patiently, and stood up to meet Feliks with a look of visible relief._

_"The Kingdom of Poland!" the messenger announced._

_"We know, thanks," Norway said, not even looking up._

_"Is that finally everyone?" Saxony demanded, laying down his shield so that he could focus all his disdain on Poland._

_"Yeah, Christoph, it is," Toris said, rubbing his temples. Fifteen minutes with these people and he was already starting with a migraine to end all migraines._

_"So don't get your frilly pink undercrackers in a twist," Denmark added and got kicked in the shin._

_"Just because I have long hair does not mean I wear ladies' underwear!" Christoph shouted, flushing a deep pink._

_"Okay good," Lithuania said hurriedly, pulling up an extra chair so Poland could sit down. "Everyone's here, so let's get started."_

_And then a voice sounded from a dark shadowy corner. A voice Poland had heard many times before and which made him want to grab his sword and run into battle. "Nyet."_

_Russia stood up. He was a big Nation, and totally uncool. He was fat even then and that greatcoat he wore was totally at least two centuries out of fashion. Poland would have felt sorry for his lack of fashion sense if he didn't hate him so much._

_"I think China should be here," Russia said._

_Not this again… Poland rolled his eyes at Lithuania._

_"China has more sense," Norway mumbled._

_Saxony suddenly looked up, "Hang on, Gilbert isn't here…"_

_"That slacker is probably drunk somewhere," Poland declared._

_"Yeah, or he heard Russia would be here and shat his pants!" Den added, and laughed as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard._

_"Ja, sounds about right!" Christoph said, nodding._

_Ivan slammed his hand down on the table. It was a huge hand, Poland noted and the nails were bitten. Poland shook his head. Some of his fellow Nations had no sense of pride. "Don't speak German!" Russia growled._

_For a moment, Saxony looked likely to argue, but after weighing up the size of Russia (not literally though, Poland doubted Russia had ever seen bathroom scales and if he had that they'd registered 'error'), he shut the hell up._

_Toris managed to draw attention back to himself by opening another barrel of ale (that did the trick). "Gilbert is currently involved in disciplining certain members of the Teutonic Knights," he explained, "And China is not involved in this war."_

_"Yeah, I bet they were wearing pink undercrackers," Den said with a childish snigger._

_Russia nodded (not at Den's comment) and drew away from Saxony._

_Poland got impatient, this was a complete downer and nothing was being done, "Look, if anyone isn't here that's their own fault," he began. "So what's the plan, boys?" (some of the Nations around the table winced at the term 'boys') "Are we gonna invade Sweden or did I just wear out some perfectly good boots for nothing?" Feliks put his feet up on the table for everyone to admire. He was very disappointed when Den just burped, Saxony frowned and Russia glared at him in silence._

_Without going into the boring details of tactics and battle strategy and provisions (i.e. how much beer the Danish army would need to get them to the Swedish border or how much vodka the Russian troops needed) the gist was yes, they were going to invade Sweden._

_"My boss says the little King Charles is only a boy, da?" Russia had said at one point. "With the Russian army coming at him as well as Denmark-Norway and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth he will not know what to do!" But then Russia had said under his breath, "One day they will all be one with Russia, especially little Lithuania…" But he thought no-one had heard him… creepy dude._

_Saxony had mellowed out after drinking a few pints (thank God), "But Tsar Peter himself was crowned at ten years old, Russia," he pointed out with a drunken cleverness._

_"Charles XII is not Russian," Ivan pointed out cheerily as if this made all the difference. And on Planet Ivan it probably did._

_"He's right there," Denmark conceded._

_Christoph drained his fourth pint. "Well, you know me, hic – I'm always up for a good fight," he said._

_"And you don't have a choice, because Polska and Lithuania are in charge of you, da?" Russia said giving Saxony a big creepy smile, poured himself another vodka and knocked over Norway's house of cards. Feliks hoped the Swedish army were issued with spare pants._

Back to the present day, Finland looked troubled. "What happened after that?" he asked.

"Oh, I went and did some shopping, got my nails done…" Poland looked around at the blank stares, "Oh you mean the war? Well, Charles XII turned out to be like, tougher than he looked, and he kicked me and Liet all the way back home. Ber forced us to join him and he kicked plenty of arse over the next twenty years."

All eyes panned over to Berwald. His mouth twitched up into a suggestion of a smile, "D'nt mess w'th the Swedes," he said softly.

"And Braginski totes wasn't happy about me and Liet being defeated. His exact words were I will tear you apart from limb from limb, little Polska."

There was a collective shudder at both the words and the eeriness of Poland's uncanny impression, but the Pole just shrugged.

"That was, like, a long time ago. Wasn't scared then, not scared now."

Den was staring at Gilbert, "Punishing Teutonic Knights? Like hell, what were you really doing, man?"

"I was getting shit done!" Gilbert said dramatically.

Belarus shoved Gilbert off his chair, expertly dealt a new hand around the table, picked up her cards and took a swallow of vodka. Her memories of her big brother were many. She obviously couldn't remember the first time they'd met. She'd just been a tiny baby. But she now recalled one of her earliest and as it happened, favourite memories of her big brother.

_Mama Russia brought her children up to be strong and independent. She lived like a peasant but didn't have the peasant superstitions. But the natural elements - particularly snow - and wildlife was to be treated with respect. Mama Russia taught her children that one day they would all be strong Nations, that they would have enemies but if they stuck together and helped each other they could defeat anything._

_But one thing that scared Belarus as a child was storms. Thunder and lightning - the loud thunderclaps that her mother told her was just the old Nordic God Thor getting angry. Belarus didn't believe in the old gods, but it still scared her. She imagined it was really hundreds of dead soldiers marching in the sky. And she would count as her sestra had told her to do, because the time between the lightning flashes and the thunderclaps meant the distance the storm was from their small, flimsy wooden cottage. _

_Only her beloved Ivan made it all go away. He alone knew when she was afraid and would hold her in his arms and sing to her an old folk tune. In those days he was her dear brother, she loved him and loved his strong arms wrapped around her and the last thing on her mind would have been marriage. In those days he didn't run and she didn't chase._

_One night there was a very fierce storm, it seemed as if the whole of nature was fighting it out over their cottage. The lightning flashed and lit up the whole room in blinding blue flashes. The thunder rolled - it sounded like the older thunder god was fighting. Little Natalya, barely four years old, hid under her blankets. Her mother was fast asleep - strangely the storms never woke her. Her big sister, Katya was out late at some village dance. Natalya was sure there was going to be a big argument in the morning when their mother realised that Katya had climbed out of the window after being told she couldn't go. Natalya didn't quite understand why her sestra braided her hair and was so interested in the local peasant boys. She thought they were silly. She squeaked with fear as another roll of thunder shook the tiny wooden cottage._

_Then she felt the mattress sink and a big warm body climb in to her bed. Strong arms wrapped around her. She relaxed and snuggled up to her big brother's pyjama clad chest. He smelled of sunflowers and wolf._

_Although Ivan was only six or seven years older than her, he seemed huge to her. He was the one who picked her up when she fell over, the one who held her hand when she was scared of the winter storms that buffeted the small cottage - which happened often, although their mother would just smile enigmatically, her head cocked on one side as if she were listening to a conversation, and the one who put her to bed. As soon as Natalya could crawl she would follow him around the small-holding their mother had, the chickens and goats scattering around them._

_Now, Ivan began to whisper one of the many Russian folk tales that had been passed down word for word around the communities for generations. Natalya snuggled down and interrupted, as she often did, "Vanya, can you tell me the one about the giant and the witch who capture that nasty little boy and the big bad wolf?" Natalya always wanted the most blood-thirsty and creepiest tales. In this way, she fell asleep to Ivan's gentle murmuring and dreamed of creepy witches, shaggy wolves and bloodthirsty giants. She smiled, her big brother would always look after her._

"Fucking 'ell, fucking weird. No wonder you grew up the way you did," Prussia exclaimed and took a chug of beer.

Natalya waved a knife at him and was about to say something very rude when someone nudged Denmark who had slumped in his chair, holding a hand of cards (his eyes had glazed over - he didn't like card games, he thought they were boring, anything not involving women or beer was boring). "Hey Den, tell us about your first meeting with Russia!" someone said.

Den looked up. "Man! I was totally awesome! I kicked his big fat commie ass…"

"Except you didn't, did you?" Estonia said quietly, counting his winnings. (He was the usual winner at these games.)

"I fucking did! I'll kick your arse!" Den said.

Sweden frowned at him and 'harumphed'.

**Den's, Finland's and Estonia's stories coming up in Part II.**

**Thank you for your patience guys.**


	27. Flashback Part II

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks everyone who reviewed/alerted/favourited and PM'd this story.**

Warnings: Creepiness, Den, Prussia, the usual swearing.

Chapter 27 - Flashback Part II or alternatively How Copenhagen Almost Ran Away with Russia and almost became Moscow

"Most of you were there the first time I met Russia. Not you, Pru-dude, but Natalya and Katya tried to beat me up and Ber was in the tavern when Ivan beat me at arm-wrestling." Den grinned at the memory, although he still had nightmares of those horrid purple eyes gleaming at him and that sing-song voice…

"Ber" nodded. "W's funny."

"Didn't see much of him for another decade or so, and I might not've done if fuckin' Gustav hadn't let me send that damn letter. Wanker should've been buggered with an axe. Thanks to him, crazy commie bastard ran off with my daughter." Den growled.

'Ooh, this should be good,' Latvia thought, as Den poured himself another beer.

_The last thing Matthias wanted to come home to after a hard day of pillaging was a pissed off teenage girl taking potshots at his new tapestry (stolen from Arthur) but sometimes, shit happens._

"_Hey!" Den shouted, and Lucia's arrow missed its target (France's head) and embedded itself in the wall._

_Lucia turned around, bow still in her hand, and Denmark ducked to avoid being shot at. "King Valdemar says I can't have a boat," she grunted, and turned back around, notching a new arrow._

"_He's right; you are a chick, chick," Den said, and whimpered as Lucia spun 'round again. "Argh, Lucy, what have I told you about not pointing arrows at people?!" Den squeaked, throwing himself on the ground. Seconds later an arrow struck the wall where Den had been standing. "Duuude!"_

_Lucia pulled her arrows out, still scowling. "I don't see why women shouldn't be in battle if they're strong enough... and _I'm_ strong enough. Look at Greenland. Or Ukraine. Or Hungary."_

_Den snorted. "Hungary's a dude."_

_Lucia shook her head. "No, dad, she's not. God, even _Prussia's_ figured that out. But I don't know why I'm telling _you,_ it's not like you care about women's rights."_

_Den didn't. He didn't see why Lucia couldn't be happy with a big-ass Viking husband like Big Sven, or maybe Olaf, or the other Sven that wasn't quite as big but still big. "Oh, come on!" Lucia strode off down the hallway, leaving Den yelling after her. "I offered to let you pick a husband instead of just flinging one on you, didn't I? That's more than _some_ fathers would do! Look at Hans, he beheaded the guy his daughter wanted to marry and married her off to some guy she hated just for the hell of it! What do you want from me?!"_

"_Fuck off!" Lucia shouted back, and slammed the door with the force of a thousand krakens._

_Den went down the tavern that night, partly because he did that every night, partly to get away from his daughter. Lucia did have the milder temperament of his two daughters, without a doubt (he'd had to give Matilda Jr. Greenland in order to shut her the hell up, and regarded the 1800 miles of sea between them as necessary for his own safety) but lately she had been joining in the training sessions, and beating some of his best Viking dudes at their own game. That had started, Den remembered, when Norgie and Icy had last been down; he would have to have a word with both of them._

_Den didn't remember a whole lot of that night at the tavern, though when he got home he discovered he had lost his better helmet and one sock, probably in a bet. He did recall, however, the following:_

"_Well I bet three coins Den can't drain that barrel in one go without passing out!" Olaf shouted, and a roar from the surrounding Vikings accompanied him._

_Denmark smirked. "Watch and weep, lads," he said, and gulped down the largest barrel of ale in the place. He then broke it over Olaf's head and picked the Viking's pockets while he lay on the ground._

"_Man, does alcohol affect you at all?" Sven laughed, clapping Denmark on the back so hard that he almost stepped on Olaf. _

"_I dunno, man," Den grinned, and slapped Sven on the back in return. Sven didn't even move._

"_I only saw one bloke could drink like you, Matthias," Gustav piped up, "and that was Russia."_

_The atmosphere in the place suddenly changed. The temperature dropped three degrees, someone's pitcher of beer capsized itself (three Vikings trying to throw themselves between it and the floor), and at least four people gulped._

"_Ah, no way can that slacker take me down!" Den shouted._

"_Prove it," Gustav answered, and Den made a mental note to punch him at some point. "Invite him here for a drinking competition."_

"_Do you know what, Gustav," Den said, "I fuckin' well will."_

_Den remembered doing no such thing, though an answer came to his apparent request a week or so later. Den left his house, looked back at the door after he slammed it shut, and did a double-take._

_Pinned to the door with a knife was a note. Written on it was one word: "Da."_

"_Fuck," Den said, and had to sit down for a minute._

_Two days later there was a knock on the door, followed by a sing-song "Denmark, open your door or I will wrap it around your head!"_

_Lucia got there first and Denmark was not surprised when Russia and two soldiers were shown into the sitting room._

'_Huh,' Den thought, 'thinks he's so bloody hard, but he brings bodyguards with him.'_

_Ivan saw Matthias looking and grinned at him. "They are not for me, Denmark, they are for you. It would not be good for diplomatic relations if I kill you, da?"_

_Lucia, Denmark saw with confusion and dismay, was gazing at Ivan with a look of admiration in her eyes._

"_You have thirty seconds to explain this," Ivan said, and handed Den a letter._

_It was garbled, misspelled and barely legible, but the gist was that Ivan had no manhood and Den could beat him at drinking any day, dude, so come to the tavern and get beaten by the awesomest dudest dude Nation._

"_Look, dude, I was drunk as fuck and my daughter shot at me and Gustav was all 'dude, Russia-dude can drink more than you' and I was all 'nuh-uh' and he was all 'yeah-huh' and this bullshit happened and please don't pummel me I have so much to live for..." All this was said on one breath and Den was practically sobbing by the end of it._

_Russia exchanged a glance with each of his soldiers, and the three of them burst out laughing. "Only joking! We're all friends here, da? You are very funny, Mr. Denmark, so I will not kill you badly... yet. But I will drink you under the table and laugh at you."_

_Den nearly fainted with relief. "Oh, thank Odin for that. Lucia, show Mr. Russia and his... friends to the guest room."_

"_Gladly," Lucia said, eyeing Ivan, and led him out._

"_Spasiba, Miss Lucia. You can call me Vanya!" Den heard as they left._

_Den swaggered into the tavern that night, but he didn't feel as confident as he looked. If he lost, he'd only be the second-best drinker in the world, and that was bullshit. Might as well just start wearing ladies' underwear like Saxony and have done with it._

_He scanned the crowd. The usual Viking dudes were in attendance – Sven, Sven, Olaf, Gustav, Sven, Hans, Sven, Olaf and Sven at the bar singing a bawdy song about ravishing English maidens, and more guys he didn't know quite as well at the tables and sitting around the fire listening to Mad Fred, the hundred year old guy, telling his kraken stories. Den's eyes panned over and almost disregarded a short, thin lad who looked ridiculously small alongside all the tall Vikings he was sitting with, then did a double-take – how many blokes did he know who wore hair-clips and spoke Norwegian?!_

"_Norge!" Den yelled ear-splittingly, darting across the tavern to hug him. Norge allowed the hug with a grimace as cat-calls sounded around them._

"_New girlfriend, Den?" A bloke sitting on the other side of the table shouted, and Norway punched him on the top of his head, knocking his helmet down over his eyes._

"_Piss off, Lukas," Norge spat with a look of contempt, and turned to look at Den, who was still hugging him around the shoulders. "Don't get the wrong idea, wanker, I was in the city and heard you were going to get your arse kicked in a drinking contest."_

"_Love ya too, Norge," Den grinned. __Norway rolled his eyes and turned back to his beer._

_The tavern suddenly fell silent, and Den turned around to see Russia walk in the door, closely followed by Lucia Køhler._

"_Hang on!" The only Sven that wasn't blond shouted. "I didn't think women were allowed in 'ere!"_

"_They are allowed," the bartender said, "just not safe for them in here, what with all the Vikings. Most women would be too scared."_

'_I'd like to see a bloke who could scare Lucia off,' Den thought._

"_Well, I'm not," Lucia retorted, brandishing her axe. A horned helmet glinted on her head and a broadsword was strapped to her belt, in addition to the wooden shield on her back._

_All the men in the place eyed Lucia and simultaneously decided to 'leave the crazy chick the fuck alone' as they put it._

"_Miss Lucia is going to judge the drinking contest, da?" Ivan said, and gave all the Vikings a big, toothy smile._

_No one argued with that._

_Two hours later, the tavern was completely empty of alcohol of any kind. The first Vikings to sober up had ridden into the city in search of more beer, but Den hoped they didn't find it. For the first time in his life alcohol was actually affecting him; he couldn't stand straight and he was pretty sure there were two Norways sitting next to him. _

_Russia in comparison was annoyingly composed. He kept stealing appreciative glances at Lucia when he didn't think Den was looking, but overall seemed the same as usual._

"_Oh!" Russia started. "I just remembered I brought vodka with me!"_

"_Great!" Den tried to sound enthusiastic and failed miserably. "Send your dudes to go get it, then." Den hated vodka – burned your throat out – but at least there would be a fast end to this contest. If he left as quickly as possible, hopefully no one would notice that they hadn't decided on a forfeit and he wouldn't end up in a dress or something._

"_Wut? Oh, okay. Viktor? Sergei?"_

_The two soldiers Russia had brought with him looked up from the bar, where they were playing cards. "Da?" The broader one asked._

"_I left some vodka at Mr Denmark's house, can you fetch it? Not all of it, we will need some for the return journey, just enough to make Denmark pass out."_

"_Da, okay papa," the lad who had spoken pushed the other on the shoulder; he was starting to loll forwards onto the bar from tiredness. "Come on Viktor, some fresh air will wake you up."_

_Viktor yawned, stretched, and narrowly avoided tripping over his barstool, then had to jog to catch up with Sergei on the way out._

"_That's my little Sergei, my son," Russia said with obvious love. "He's a good boy."_

"_And the other, is he yours too?" Den asked, slightly incredulous that some woman had survived carrying and birthing Russia's child. Surely _both_ couldn't be his; they were too close in age, and Viktor didn't look like Russia at all._

"_Nyet,_ _he is my nephew, Ukraine's son. He is tall and slight, so we thought he might make a swordfighter, but he is more interested in being a dancer." Russia shook his head in disbelief._

"_Most of the blokes in this tavern are the spawn of Den," Norge piped up. Den jumped; he'd almost forgotten he was there. "That's what makes them so dumb. One of them mistook Icy in a fluffy coat for a yeti, and don't even get me started on the underwater troll wedding."_

_That peaked Ivan's interest. "Ooh," he said, and eyed Den like he was examining a particularly bizarre catch in ice-fishing._

"_You know, Den once sent a bunch of them to me for the Battle of Stamford Bridge; you know, 1066, when I invaded Britain? I'm sure that's why we lost. And the last king made him stop having kids because they're so hopeless. The last was Lucia; she's eighteen."_

"_No!" Den shouted, losing his temper with Norge for probably the only time. "Valdemar made me stop having kids because they're so awesome and kickass and this world ain't big enough to hold all of them. And you lost your battle," Den declared dramatically, "because your king had bad hair."_

_There was a long moment of silence as Den and Nor glared at each other before Russia spoke. "Katya was right," he said in wonder, "the Nordics are funny, da? Maybe I will make my visits a regular thing..."_

"Is this story going anywhere?" Toris wondered, dealing everyone a hand of cards.

"Yeah, man... maybe I should speed it up a bit, there's kind of a lot to tell." Den picked up his cards, winced, and whispered to Finland, "God, I have a load of junk... check it out..."

"Matthias, that's a royal flush."

"A what? Sounds as crap as it is."

Estonia banged his head against the table.

_Speeding up the story because it was kinda late and who knew when Russia would be back, man, Ivan won the drinking contest and Den lost two days of his life to unconsciousness. He later remembered vague whispers and fuzzy images, the clearest being Ivan's reaction to Lucia getting into his bed "you want us to sleep together? Da, but you should know that I snore."; as well as Norway asking him how much he'd drunk, to which he could only reply "yes" and "more, please" and someone singing Ukrainian folk songs in the middle of the night (whoever it was was quite good.)_

_When Den came to his head felt like ten thousand Vikings had rampaged through it, pillaged it, and burned it down. It wasn't a good start to the day._

_Norge was standing over him with two big pots, banging them together none too gently._

"_The fuck, Erik?" Den groaned._

"_They told me to wake you up, so I did." Norway said. He laid down his pots, much to Den's relief, and sat on the bed. "Do you remember anything?"_

_Den thought for the first time in ages, making his head hurt even more. "Creepy Russian dude's son got vodka and Viktor tried to teach me Cossack dancing... that's about it."_

"_Well, after that, you passed out and I had to carry you home. I put you to bed, then you woke up and grabbed my arse, so I slapped you and you passed out again."_

"_The usual then?"_

"_Ja."_ _Norge looked away, letting a lock of hair fall onto his face. "I will deny ever saying this for as long as I live but, Matthias, I was actually a bit worried about you."_

_Den grinned up at him, tried to sit up, and winced as more pain shot through his head._

_Norge turned his head and glared at him. "Stop being a big girl and get the hell up, Lucia's making breakfast."_

_Den's eyebrows shot up. "Who the fuck convinced her to do that?"_

_Norge shrugged. "She said she does it all the time."_

"_Does she bloody _FUCK?!_ I ask her for a stew and she lobs an axe at my head. I mean, Matilda would've lobbed two axes and a large goat, but still..." Den shook his head. "Who asked her? Is the poor bastard still alive?"_

"_Russia, I think." Norway shifted uncomfortably. "Matthias, don't do anything rash, but they seem to be... very fond of each other."_

_Den totally didn't get it at first. "Like... friends? Like me and you?"_

_Norge winced. "No, Matthias. Just... no. We are nothing like them, no matter what Lukas and Gustav say." Norway shook himself. "Seriously, get a move on before the Russians devour your whole damn pantry."_

_Den got a move on, but Russia and his kids devoured the whole damn pantry anyway._

_Norway had decided to stick around for a bit; his lame excuse was that he was there "for politics" but Den knew that meant he wanted in his pants. Russia stayed too; no one could seem to get him to leave, at least while the sun was around. It was all cool for a week or so – only three fights and a de-bagging – but then Den woke up and found Ivan, Lucia, Sergei, most of his money, the emergency vodka and beer and his best helmet gone. It was young Viktor who raised the alarm, having woken up and found his cousin gone._

_Denmark, Norway and Viktor sat around the table, all three fuzzy from sleep, and tried to make sense of what had happened._

"_I think it's obvious they left together," Norge said. "I mean, we all saw how Lucia and Ivan were acting with each other, and they'd need Sergei to help carry..."_

"_Wut? I mean what?" Den said. Viktor and Erik just looked at him._

"_You didn't notice?" Nor said incredulously. "Even after I told you they were fond of each other? Matthias, she started wearing dresses again... are you really that dense?"_

"_I just don't get why they left me..." Viktor said softly, looking as if he was about to cry, and was ignored._

"_Hey, you should've told me! I had better things to think about!" Den protested._

"_I did, in so many words... and, like what? Beer?" Norway snorted._

"_Do you guys think I did something bad? Maybe my singing isn't good enough?" Viktor asked. Again, both Nations affected not to hear him._

"_You don't know! I could be a top philosophiser... philos... one of those! And anyway, you said they weren't like us so I ruled out them being a couple..." Den said._

_Nor looked like someone had pointed a bow and arrow at him. "Are you serious, Denmark? ...No. Just no. We are not a couple, we have never been a couple, and I'm going home." Norge pushed his chair back and stomped out._

_Den stared blankly after him for a few moments, until Viktor laid a hand on his shoulder._

"_Mr Denmark, if you love him, you should go after Mr Norway."_

"Seriously, Matthias, much as I'm loving hearing about your millenia-long unresolved sexual tension with Erik, and of course my dear Vik helping you guys patch it up, what does this have to do with Vanya?" Ukraine asked.

Den winked. "Check it, chick, I'm about to tell ya." He thought for a second, then "well, kinda. I guess."

Pol groaned. "Hurry up, man, I feel like I've been listening to you run your mouth for hours..."

_So because some people have no appreciation for a good story, Den sent a thousand of his best Viking bros after Lucia and Ivan. Three returned with a message from Den's dear daughter._

"_Oi dad,_

Going to marry Ivan and become a personification of a city because he respects my right to kick arse. Thanks for teaching me to fight and feeding me but I don't think I'll be back.  
>Tell Viktor it wasn't his fault we left him, he looked like he was having a good dream and Sergei didn't want to wake him. If you could send him our way we'd appreciate it. And by that I mean, we have Big Sven and Olaf the Angry captive and if you give us Viktor we'll give them back.<p>

_Cheers,  
>Lucia Køhler. (Next time I write to you it'll be Lucia Braginskaya, personification of Moscow, dude!)"<em>

_Den read the letter out to Viktor, who couldn't read anything not written in the Cyrillic alphabet, and strapped his boots on._

"_Am I going back to Uncle Ivan and Cousin Sergei?" Viktor asked hopefully._

"_Aye, but not only that," Den said, and paused for effect. "I'm getting my daughter back, whatever it takes."_

"_Did_ you get Lucia back?" Tino suddenly burst out, then slapped his hand over his mouth.

"You know I did... Copenhagen? Seriously, Fin? You had her over for Christmas lunch last year and she split the table in half trying to carve the turkey with an axe."

"Oh..." Recognition dawned on Finland's face.

Den sighed. "Well, that spoiled that. I gave her a boat and made her my capital city and she's still around kicking arse and breaking hearts and drinking beer."

"Poor Ivan, though," Ukraine pondered. "He always falls so deeply, I bet he really loved her."

Natalya nodded. "I hate her. She had a chance to marry brother and she went back to stupid Denmark."

"What about the commanders?" Latvia asked. "Small Sven and Olaf the Outraged or some shit like that." (She was quite proud of those names; she'd been thinking them up since Den mentioned the blokes Russia had taken captive.)

"For a small dude, you have too much sass," Den told her. "Big Sven was fine, though he never seemed quite as big as before. A lot of it was ego, see, and it's hard to respect a guy who goes into a catatonic state every time he hears a Russian accent. Olaf... well... Olaf was not so lucky."

_After Den was done hugging Big Sven, who was his best warrior and in quite a state, Russia said, "And next is Mr. Olaf. You said they must be unharmed, and _da,_ he is unharmed..."_

_Den nearly collapsed with relief, "Oh, good..."_

"_...As long as you do not mind that his head fell off." Russia sighed sadly. "It must be that he wasn't using it enough. So sad. He can still sit on a horse, _da?"

"_Yeah, it was nothing to do with the fact that that crazy bastard pulled it off his shoulders..." Big Sven whispered in Den's ear._

_Den grabbed Lucia's hand in one of his and Big Sven's in the other. "Right, kids," he said, "we're getting the fuck out of here."_

_And they did._

—

Latvia gulped down a tumbler of vodka and squeaked, "You mean.. You mean…" she stuttered but couldn't get the words out.

"Stop stammering Latvia…" Estonia said gravely and gathered his winnings up - again.

"Yeah, big fuckin' fat ass pulled my best Viking warrior's head off," Den nodded.

"Maybe it did fall off?" Belarus said. Her brother had told her that sometimes people's heads fell off. She'd seen him give Genghis Khan (and no-one liked pissing him off) his peace emissary's head. She'd only been young and naive at the time and Russia had told her as they stomped out, that his head had 'dropped off, just like that'.

There were nervous laughs around the table, Belarus glared at them.

"Yeah well, you wouldn't laugh if you were given a head," Den muttered.

"What about you, Ed?" Latvia said, still shivering, trying to change the subject.

"Head!? Ed!? Dude chick is hilarious!" Gilbert yelled, but he was shivering as well - Russia had threatened him many times to 'pull off his head' and the fact that the big Nation could actually do it made his skin crawl.

"Stop calling me a chick!" Latvia snarled.

Estonia looked up, "You mean me?"

"Well, you're the only Ed here, sweetie," Poland said.

"Yeah man, no severed heads knocking around are there? Does fat commie bastard collect them?" Gilbert said.

Eduard Von Bock dealt the next round and looked up over his glasses at Gilbert. He shook his head sadly.

"Well… after Grunwald…" Estonia began.

Gilbert shuddered and took a large swig of beer, "Bastards," he muttered looking over at Poland and Lithuania, the former smirking, the latter nervously swallowing another antacid pill.

"After Grunwald, I went to work for Mr Sweden here until the Great Northern War. I was transferred to Mr Russia…" Estonia shrugged and stopped talking.

"What did you think of Mr Russia when you first met him?" Latvia asked, her eyes agog. All this seemed like ancient history to her.

Estonia shrugged again.

_Sat at his desk (Estonia seemed to spend most of his centuries old life sat behind desks doing paperwork, the clothing may change, the currency he counted may change, the job never did) Eduard Von Bock hurriedly shoved the title deeds for the acres of woodland and the Swedish Island he'd acquired into his leather bag. Along with gold coinage (he never relied on local currency, governments came and went - gold was always reliable), he put the receipts from the wool merchants into his pockets and, his pockets weighed down, he pulled on his heavy travelling cloak and, as an afterthought, dropped the bottle of Polish vodka into his bag._

_It was September 1721. Unlike most of his contemporary Nations, Estonia always kept a check on the date and year, kept a journal (not the great "I am awesome, killed forty Russians, seduced four girls and drank a dozen beers" journal that was Gilbert's but a journal of business). If anyone had looked in his journal they would have seen dates, columns of sums, the odd placename or person's name, company or country. This was Eduard's security, his future. He took a deep breath as the door behind him opened and the air temperature dropped._

"_Privet Mr Estonia! You belong with me now!" came a horrid cheery voice._

_Eduard turned round and faced his new 'owner'. Russia, the large Arctic Nation who, to the small Baltic Nation, resembled a bear in clothes._

_Sweden, his face grim, still brandishing a huge sword, his Army uniform worn and scruffy, stood behind the Russian. "Look 'fter 'im, Ivan," he mumbled._

But as Eduard told the story, he left out the details of his 'journal' and gold…

"You call Braginski by his first name, Sweden?" Poland asked, his eyes wide, eyeing up the large, silent Swede.

Sweden nodded and muttered something.

Finland translated, "He says he always has."

There were murmurs around the table. Usually only his sisters called Russia by his first name. The Baltics called him 'boss' or 'Mr Russia', everybody else called him 'Russia', except Poland who called him 'Braginski' with a sarcastic tone.

Estonia continued…

_Russia smiled at him, revealing a big childish grin._

"_Er well, yes… I think Mr Russia that…" but Estonia didn't finish his sentence as, to his amazement, Russia stepped forward and in one quick movement picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, his head dangling down the Russian's back._

_Russia turned to Sweden, who was looking grim and beat, his frown deeper than Estonia had ever seen it. "Bye then, Mr Sweden! Tell your King Frederick I'll take care of the Baltics…Mr Lithuania will be joining me soon enough and Mr Finland!" Russia said cheerily. He shook hands with Sweden, who visibly winced at the contact._

Around the table, Lithuania trembled and took another shot of vodka. Poland took his hand under the table.

_Estonia sighed and managed to ask, quietly as Russia carried him out of the house with little effort as if he were just a rag doll, "Do you need a secretary, Mr Russia? Someone to look after your affairs?"_

_Russia stopped and dropped the smaller Nation none too gently. "Affairs? What kind of man do you think I am? I am not like France! I do not have…" here Russia blushed "… affairs!"_

"_Er I mean, your money, I'm very good with sums. I can help you with your finances and investments," Estonia said hurriedly. He watched with alarm as a strange purple mist floated around the big Nation's shoulders. Russia was glaring at him and clutching a piece of lead piping. Then suddenly Russia smiled, patted Estonia on the head so hard he thought he was being hammered into the ground. _

"_You're very clever, Mr Estonia. I know what you're up to! You think I don't and you think I'm stupid…"_

_Estonia stammered, "You… you… do?"_

"_Da, but one day Lithuania will join us and be one with Russia and we will all live together happily in one big house forever and ever and you will never need any money ever again!"_

_Estonia, who had dealt with nutty Nations all his life - Denmark, Poland, Sweden… was lost for words. He felt goosebumps on his arms, and the hairs on his neck stood up on end. He was about to say something else when he picked up again and thrown over the big Russian's shoulder. A clatter of gold coins from his pocket stopped the Russian from stomping down the steps._

"_Oh Mr Estonia has brought some money for his board! That's alright Mr Estonia… we'll leave it for Mr Sweden as payment, you won't need money where you're going…"_

_Estonia, for the first time in his very long life, trembled with fear._

"I'm amazed, Ed, that you didn't get your crafty arse out of there," Latvia said, squinting at her cards.

Eduard ignored her. He didn't tell them that he soon made a cool million in his first year of captivity. They didn't need to know that.

"What about you, Tino? What happened to you when you were taken by Braginski?" Poland asked, "I mean Ed… if you'd stayed with me, like you all should have done, this would have been okay."

"That makes you sound like Mr Russia," Latvia said quietly.

Denmark laughed, "Poland's not so bloody sweet and innocent…" he said with a horrid grin, "_I know..."_ He added.

Poland grumbled and squeezed Toris' hand.

"Oh aye, dude? You been gay with Mr Gaypants Polska Ex European Great Power?" Gilbert emphasised the word 'ex' with relish.

Katya whacked him around the head with her open hand, "Behave Kaliningrad!" she said, but smiled as she said it.

This always happened when too many of the Nations got together, they would end up arguing about who slept with who, who invaded who, who still had a piece of somebody else's land. Katya sighed, "Why can't we all get along?"

"Cos we're fucking Nations, Miss Double D," Den said drunkenly and was promptly walloped around the head by Belarus.

Ignoring all this, Tino told his story.

_Finland had met Russia a number of times in the past. He was his neighbour, after all, but it was always in the company of Sweden. The huge Nordic country who lived on his other side had ruled over him for centuries and Tino had found himself the battlefield in between the two large Nations. But his nobility had increasingly urged for autonomy from Sweden. Finland himself knew this was surely the right thing to do, but he feared his other neighbour far more than Sweden._

_But this was 1809 and the end of the Finnish War. Russia's forces had swept over the frozen Baltic and forced Sweden's armies in frantic retreat. _

"Crossed the Baltic Sea? Frozen?" Latvia interrupted.

"It's what they do, man! Fucking nutters…" Gilbert almost shouted and then muttered, "Fucking General fucking Winter," and then sucked on his cigarette and looked at the window nervously. It was only October but you never knew…

Sweden interrupted with grumbles and murmurings. No-one understood. Finland translated. "He says if his commanders had used the British expeditionary force they could have still won."

"Arthur was there? Well screw me sideways with a green banana!" Gilbert said, charmingly.

"He's mental, man - when he gets annoyed. All you'd have had to do, Ber, is tell him that fat Ivan had sat on his crumpet and then bam!" Den slammed his fist on the table. Katya batted him again around the head. Den ignored her and continued, "You'd have got the RAF dropping buns on big Russkie…"

"The RAF wasn't around then, stupid! This was 18 something or other," Gilbert said, putting his feet up on the table, overly pleased he'd actually got some history correct.

"1809…" Someone told him.

Gilbert shrugged, "Not interested, dude. Totally unawesome war, man. I wasn't in it, so obviously it was a waste of time."

"Arthur's Navy was good though against Mr Russia's…" Tino said.

"Ja, HMS Incompetent against 12 drunk Russian sailors," Gilbert laughed.

"The Soviet Armed forces are the most professional in the world!" Belarus interjected.

Gilbert fell off his chair laughing, "Fucking nutters, almost felt fucking sorry for them during the War, they had to kill one of us to get a rifle."

Everyone froze. No-one ever mentioned _that _War.

Belarus jumped on him and started slamming his head against the floor.

Tino continued his story, such as it was. Interrupted with Gilbert's yells of "Get Princess Crazy off me!"

_Russia turned up, picked Tino up, threw him over his shoulder and stomped off. His words to Sweden (the large Scandinavian Nation almost in tears) were "Yay! Now I've got Santa! I've got a harbour. He'll get on really well with my little Baltics!"_

_Tino had struggled, he really did, but the big Russian had such a grip on him, it was like shoving against a mountain._

_He tried to wave to Sweden, who stood on the steps of his house, in much the same position he'd been when he lost Estonia. And then…_

"_Ivan!" Sweden shouted suddenly._

_Russia stopped his inexorable march back home and turned round, still holding the struggling Finn, "Wut?" he asked._

"_I'll fight you for him! Winner takes him," Sweden said and raised his broadsword._

_Russia harrumphed. He was intrigued. He dropped the Finn. "I have already beaten you, Mr Sweden…"_

"_Are you afraid?" Sweden said, and stepped down towards him, swinging the sword around._

_Russia turned and smiled, taking a two foot long piece of lead pipe from his Army greatcoat. "Nyet, I do not think so," he said._

"Fucking lovely, man! But will someone get her off me!" Gilbert yelled.

"So what happened?" Latvia asked. Everyone turned briefly to see Belarus bashing Gilbert's head against the carpet and then back to Tino.

_Five hours later, Sweden sank to his knees, utterly exhausted, his hair matted with sweat, blood ran down his face from a cut above his ear, he held his sword loosely in his left hand (his right arm was broken). He tried to get up, but couldn't, he looked over to Finland who watched helplessly from the side._

_Russia nodded, satisfied. He'd barely broke sweat, his lead pipe covered in blood, Swedish blood spotted his coat. The Russian had a nasty cut to his stomach but it barely bothered him - in fact it had just served to anger him further and what had been, in his head, just a friendly duel, had turned into something more savage. He hesitated though to kill his old rival. It would cause too much trouble. His boss would not be happy. The Swede had learned his lesson, and now it was the time of the great Russian Empire. He turned, picked up Tino (who waved plaintively at Berwald) and stomped off. _

"_Can I come in the sleigh with you on Christmas Eve, Tino? I could help with the presents. I won't get stuck in a chimney, I promise. I could be Ded Moroz!"_

_It actually didn't work out too badly, Tino often thought. He became a Grand Duchy and was well on the way to becoming independent. For some reason, probably because he did allow Russia to accompany him on his sleigh (but not down chimneys) he was treated far better than Russia's other subordinates. But he always missed Sweden._

"Well isn't that just abso-fucking-lutely wonderful? Now will somebody get this crazy-ass bitch offa me?" Gilbert all but shrieked.

Gilbert's saviour came in an unlikely form…

The front door bashed open, and cold air blew in. "Hi kids! I'm home!" came a loud, cheery, slightly high-pitched voice.

"Brother!" Belarus yelled in utter joy, leapt off Gilbert and ran to the door.

Estonia hurriedly collected up all the chips and the cards. "Come on, Toris," he said, enlisting the help of his fellow Baltic, "help me put these away before he tries to play Snap again and breaks the table."

Russia strode in, Belarus on his heels. He seemed in a fairly good mood, until he spotted Pol and the Nordics. "Toris, what are they doing here?"

_Why is it always me that gets the blame?_ Toris thought. "Er, they, er, just came to-"

"-To ask what you wanted for Christmas!" Finland rescued him.

"Ooh…" Russia took this in, as usual. "Vodka, please! It is the same every year, I thought you would remember this, Mr. Finland."

Latvia took the plunge and asked what she'd been dying to ask for years, but as she was drunk and brave tonight… "Mr Russia," she began hesitantly, "What did you think of all of us when you first met us?"

Toris almost dropped his tray. Someone took a huge intake of breath. Someone else sniggered -no-one was sure who.

Russia's eyes widened. "I liked Lithuania - I could tell he was kind, he has kind eyes. I didn't like Polska, he always used to laugh at me."

Polska muttered, "Yeah, like, like I care."

"Estonia is okay, but a bit strange," Russia continued.

Estonia shook his head, _he _was strange!

"I liked Mr Denmark - I think he's funny. Especially his hair."

Den grinned like a goon and then stopped abruptly when Russia said this:

"I tried to get my hair to stick up like that. I tried syrup, glue and even stood on my hands for a bit. Then I stuck my fingers in a plug socket and it stuck up on end for ages… Do you remember, Toris?"

Lithuania nodded and hurried away. How on earth he had never ended up in a psychiatric ward he never knew.

"I don't like you, Gilbert…"

Gilbert looked round from laughing at Denmark, "Kesese! I fucking _hate _you, man!" he said.

Russia carried on, "I've never liked you, even before you invaded my beloved Motherland. You are a bad person and a bully and you think you are awesome but you are not, you just pretend you are, but inside you are a very sad lonely little man who hides behind their brother…"

"I fucking don't!" Gil yelled, going bright red. He took a step towards Russia, clenching his fists, but Katya grabbed him around the waist, beginning to drag him away.

"Come on Gil, let's get you your happy pills," Katya said calmly, dodging one of Gil's flailing fists.

Latvia waved sarcastically at Gilbert.

"I love my sestras…" Russia said hesitantly, as Belarus wrapped her arms around him. "And I like Mr Finland."

Tino gulped.

"I don't like Mr Sweden, but sometimes I do, but other times I don't…" Russia frowned and smiled in quick succession. He then turned to Latvia last of all, "But I liked little Latvia - he's funny and looks like a girl!"

There was silence on that last statement as Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Poland and Belarus all turned to look at Latvia, frowning.

Russia, oblivious, gathered up the cards and attempted (badly) to shuffle. "Who will play snap with me?" he said chirpily.

"Gotta go…" the Nordics all said as one.

(Snap with Russia could come under the heading 'extreme pursuits'.)

Next Chapter: Either Dead Tsar Day or A Conference in Soviet Russia…


	28. Dead Tsar Day

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia obviously; all these characters were created by the magical, marvellous Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**Warnings: Prussia and swearing, creepiness, idiocy**

**Chapter 28 - Dead Tsar Day**

Date: Sometime in the 1950s, a Thursday to be more precise.

Location: Leningrad

Latvia had lived in Russia's house a while now. She'd lost track of time to be honest. Her thoughts of escape were gone and she had settled down into a routine something like being in prison or in long-term care. Breakfast at 8 am, which included porridge and Gilbert telling them of his elaborate plan of escape before stomping off as Russia came in.

Then washing or dusting or vacuuming or polishing and then lunch at 12 noon which usually meant they all sat together but often Russia would be out with Estonia as his secretary. And then more washing and cleaning. It was a huge house with over a dozen bedrooms, attics, several large reception rooms and Latvia's special project - a huge garden.

She hadn't ventured in some of the rooms. Many were locked and she assumed they were disused. Her own small attic room was reached only by rickety wooden steps and was next to a much larger attic room which was locked and bolted…

Another day, another Thursday… vacuuming the stairs day - no mean feat as the house had four storeys. Latvia hummed to herself and began slowly polishing the bannister - not at the top or the bottom but halfway down just to annoy Lithuania who, she was sure, had some kind of OCD or cleaning obsession.

Then Russia stomped past talking to himself. This was not unusual in itself but it sounded as if instead of just the usual rants about the KGB, fellow Nations or lack of vodka, he was arguing with himself.

"Nyet, nyet… not today… we are not invading Germany today…"

Latvia stepped out of the way before he took her with him down the stairs.

Russia stopped and seemed to listen to someone and then shook his head and even scarier, shook his pipe - seemingly at her. "I said no! We cannot! My boss… no, you are not my boss anymore!" he said.

Latvia looked around but couldn't see anyone and stepped back, brandishing her duster before her. She shivered, the air was cold.

"You need to remember you are dead!" Russia told someone.

Latvia looked around, "Me? Sir?" she asked, trembling and stuttering. Oh God, did this mean he was going to kill her?

Russia's demeanour changed in an instant, "Ah privet little Latvia!" he said chirpily and patted her on the head. He turned and stomped off down the stairs. "No, Latvia is a boy, don't be stupid…" he was muttering to himself.

Latvia squeaked, waited until he'd stomped into his office, slamming the door behind him and then she dashed into the kitchen.

"The boss knows that I'm a…" she began and skidded to a stop.

"Complete goober?" Prussia intercepted. He was sat at the kitchen table, his boots on the table - to Lithuania's disgust - and brandishing a plunger. "Kesese! Leetle big balls Latvia! The big fat commie loon has lost it today, ja?"

Lithuania raised his eyebrows at Prussia and shoved his boots off the table, and then put a finger to his lips when Latvia looked at him questioningly.

"Today is…" here Prussia leapt to his feet, whipped out a hairbrush (Latvia's, she noted) from the pocket of his gold lamé jacket and shoved it under his mouth in the manner of a microphone. "…Dead Tsar Day!" he announced with much drama.

Latvia took all this in and looked at Lithuania's slightly amused face and back at Prussia's delighted one.

"Where did you get that jacket? You look like a cheap gameshow host."

"Man! I got this from a cheap gameshow host. Where do you think? Get with the programme, Latvia."

Latvia pinched herself, surely this was some strange dream. "Has he had his medication?" she asked Lithuania.

Prussia's evil grin widened, "So Latvia big balls who do you think is today's dead Tsar?"

"Dead? Tsar?" Latvia hoped she would wake up soon.

Lithuania sighed. Somebody should explain it to the young Nation and it shouldn't be Prussia he thought.

Unfortunately, Prussia was too quick for him.

"Every so often, our great and gloriously idiotic boss gets a visit from one of his dead bosses and today is that day!" Prussia yelled and stuck the 'microphone' under her nose again, "So, big balls Latvia who do you think that dead Tsar is?"

"What?" Latvia asked.

Prussia sighed. He was having one of the best days of his long long life. He loved dead Tsar days. Russia was always distracted and could be easily made fun of. It was the ideal day to slack off, drink beer and goon around after Russia and listen to the rantings of a complete lunatic.

"Today's dead tsar? Who do you think it is? Estonia's usually right, but then he reads… blah blah blah… Lithuania who do you reckon it is?"

Lithuania shook his head, and turned back to his baking.

"Aw come on, man! We could make this interesting and place bets…"

"So you bet on who the dead tsar is? There isn't a dead tsar. There's no such thing as ghosts!" Latvia told him.

"I know that, you daft Latvian… but the big loonie believes."

"So instead of telling him that he's seeing things… and that ghosts don't exist… you make fun and place bets?"

"Ja!"

Latvia shook her head. This was dreadful. Poor Russia. He already had a lot of mental problems. She was sure it was some memory lapse. Like he sometimes regressed back to the War or something.

"I think it's… Borislav the Strange," Prussia announced. "How much are you willing to bet?"

Lithuania shook his head, "There is no such Tsar by that name, Gilbert. You made it up."

"Stanislav Slavalot the 18th then," Prussia said.

"Idiot."

"So who do you think today's dead tsar is, Estonia?" Prussia asked Eduard as he entered the kitchen.

"Hmm… I'm not sure… I don't think we have just one dead tsar today," Eduard said thoughtfully.

"Bloody hell! Two dead tsars? Fan-bloody-tastic!" Gilbert yelled gleefully. He pulled out a sheet a paper and began scribbling. "Okay odds are… Alexander the Turd at 3 to 1…"

"Don't you mean the third, not the turd?" Latvia asked.

"Shaddap, Raivis."

"Ivan the Terrible…" here Prussia shuddered, "We don't bloody want him again!"

"I thought you said you didn't believe in these dead tsars, Gil?" Latvia said.

"I bloody don't, but he bloody does and some dead tsars are better than other dead tsars."

"You're an idiot," Lithuania said quietly.

"So, who are you betting on, Toris?" Gilbert said.

Lithuania considered the question, "We haven't had Empress Elizabeth or any of the Vasilys…"

"We had Vasily the Fourth last year," Estonia pointed out.

"Oh yes, I forgot about that one…" Lithuania said.

"He was a complete buzzkill," Gilbert said.

"I thought you said you didn't believe?" Latvia pointed out.

"I don't, but if you get a real bad dead tsar it can be real bad for us." Prussia then remembered something, "Hey remember when it was Catherine the Great?"

"Ah yes…" Lithuania smiled. "The boss was happy all week."

"I didn't like her, she told the big nutjob to invade my awesome country," Prussia said.

"I thought you said you didn't believe in all this?" Latvia said. Again.

"So, Eduard Von Big Brains Bock, who do you reckon it is?" Prussia said, sticking the 'microphone' under the Estonian's nose.

"Hmmm… I'm not sure yet. Put me down for one ruble on it being a Vladimir though for now."

"A Vladimir eh? Which one though?" Prussia asked.

"Not sure… maybe the third. Oh and two rubles on a False Dimitry, I think."

"False Dimitry! Man! These Russian dudes kill me!" Prussia almost howled.

"Yes, the boss said as he came downstairs that the dead tsar wanted him to invade Germany…" Latvia said.

"Fuck me! It could be any one of them!" Prussia said, with glee.

"I want to play … can I bet…" here Latvia rooted around in her pockets. She found a plaster, a half packet of sweets that Ukraine had given her, 25 kopecks and a screwed up picture postcard of Elvis Presley which would have gained her a visit from the KGB but also the admiration of Soviet youngsters.

"You have to have money to place a bet, Latvia," Prussia said and threw in two rubles, "I'm betting on it being a Dave…"

"There wasn't a Tsar Dave!" Latvia exclaimed.

"How the hell do you know? There might have been!" Prussia countered.

"I'm going to get some money," Latvia said.

"And put two rubles on a Tsar Summatslav."

"You can't have that. There are loads of Tsars called Stanislav, Borislav, even Sviatoslav…" Estonia told him.

"Okay okay, keep your pants on. Two rubles on Tsar Wolfgang!"

"That's a German name!" Lithuania said. "Don't be stupid."

"If he wants Tsar Wolfgang, let him," Estonia said.

"Okay okay, Tsar Kevin the Awful!"

"You're not taking this seriously."

* * *

><p>Latvia heard all this as she crept down the hall, past Russia's office and leapt up the stairs two at a time. She ran into her room and rummaged around - finding just fifty kopecks and a broken pencil. Was this the sum total of her possessions? She sighed. There was just her sniper's rifle, but she wouldn't risk that in a bet.<p>

She sighed and ran back downstairs, took a deep breath and knocked on Russia's office door.

"Nyet, it is not them. Don't be stupid… just go away… both of you…" Russia was muttering inside.

So it was two tsars… Latvia put her ear to the door, hoping to get more clues when the door was suddenly pulled open and she fell in.

Russia frowned down at her. From her position on the floor he looked huge, like a colossus. She slowly got to her feet.

"Were you listening at the door, little one?" Russia asked evenly. "Like the KGB?"

"Nooo!" Latvia almost wailed. "I was… trying to make sure you were on your own."

"Da, I am…" Russia said and waved his pipe around. He then said, quietly, "Shut up, he can't see you and you also can shut up Tsar Ivan. He is not a girl. You are silly. And dead. Yes, you _are _dead." Russia sighed and attempted a smile - which turned out creepy. "I am on my own. Definitely. What is the matter?"

"Well… I thought I heard you talking to someone…" Latvia looked around. The air was freezing and was that a shadow lurking behind the big Nation even though Russia did not move? She shook her head. Creepy.

Russia's eyes widened, "I'm not mad… I took my tablets this morning with my coffee like Toris tells me to and I'm not drunk!"

"I know, Sir," Latvia said, feeling a little sorry for him.

Russia spun round and said to thin air, "Just go away, I am not mad. You are the mad one! You were rubbish as Tsar," he then turned again, "And so were you. And that look does not suit you. I don't think someone who has been dead for over 300 years should wear shorts."

Latvia froze, watching the disintegration of the big Nation's mind. She felt pity for him but was also intrigued. Did he say 'Tsar Ivan'… Bingo, the young Nation thought. I could win big time on this and if she could get the name of the other one…

"What's the name of the other Tsar, Sir?" she asked timorously. She'd weighed up her options. Being brave could get her some money. On the other hand, she could get a pipe in her head.

"You can see them?" Russia grabbed her by the arms and stared into her eyes.

"Erm… I think… almost… I think…" she stuttered and stammered.

Russia almost danced around the room, "Ha! You must have Russian blood! That is very good, little Latvia! You have Russian in you!"

Latvia gulped and peered around the room. "Erm… Sir… I wondered if you could lend me some money…"

Russia wasn't listening, "Don't tell anyone, da? They would not understand. Gilbert makes fun of me. I know. I can hear him laughing sometimes. And Estonia. Toris doesn't though, but I don't think he believes me. They visit me and haunt me…" Russia sounded sad and angry all at once.

"I erm… no I won't say anything, Sir." Latvia said.

Russia patted her on the head, "You are a good boy, Latvia. Yes, Tsar Ivan he is a boy… Ignore him, Latvia, he is silly."

"I can't hear him, Sir."

Russia wasn't listening, "He doesn't mean it. He has been dead for centuries and does not understand that fashions change and people look differently. He doesn't understand that boys sometimes look like girls. Just because I haven't got a beard anymore does not mean I am gay!"

"Erm who is the other Tsar, Sir?"

Russia frowned down at her, "Vsevolod…"

"Vesovovolod?" Latvia tried to say.

Russia shook his head, his hand still resting on her head (it was very heavy, Latvia thought), "Vsevolod."

"Vesovolodod?"

"Nyet…" Russia sighed. "Perhaps you are not Russian?" He frowned, this was a serious defect in his eyes. "Vsevolod the Big Nest," he said.

"Wut? I mean what?"

"Never mind," Russia sighed and dug into his pocket, pulled out a handful of change. He gave it to her, "Go and get some sweets," he said indulgently, as if she were a kid.

Latvia smiled up at him, "Thank you, Sir!" and resisted the urge to skip out of the door.

Russia smiled after her fondly, "It is a shame he is not fully Russian. Poor soul… Nyet, shut up Ivan. How many times do I have to tell you he is a boy? Go away, go back to your graves both of you. I bet no other Nation has to put up with this…" He ambled back to his chair and took out a bottle of vodka. "I am fed up of you both. You are the worst Tsars… no actually Tsar Paul was stupid as well…" Russia began drinking. "So many rubbish Tsars…" he moaned. "Go away and haunt someone else."

* * *

><p>"If you could meet one of your ex bosses, who would it be?" Lithuania asked Estonia.<p>

Estonia frowned, "They were all stupid, or rubbish or both. And most of the time I was under Denmark."

"Kesese! A lot of people have been under Denmark! The big pervert!" Prussia all but yelled.

"Okay, idiot features, who would you like to meet again?" Lithuania asked.

"Fritz was a magnificent bastard of course," Prussia said with satisfaction.

Latvia came in and said something utterly stupid, "What about Adolf the Nutjob?"

Prussia almost fell off his chair, "Fucking fruit and nut cake! I'd like to fucking kill him!"

"He's dead, Gil," Toris said quietly.

"I'd like to bring him back to bloody life and fucking kill him again, the stupid little turd. Fuckin' 'ate him. He wasn't my boss and he wasn't even German or Teutonic! Little idiotic mincing…" Prussia began stomping up and down the kitchen. "Heil fucking Hitler…"

"You fought for him though…" Latvia said quietly.

Lithuania shook his head, "Latvia, I've told you not to mention the War, or Hitler or… for God's sake Prussia shut up if the boss hears you, you're dead."

"I fought for my bloody country… and he destroyed it… my beloved Prussia was gone… I hate him… I was in the Wehrmacht…"

"Yeah and they were a delightful bunch weren't they?" Latvia muttered.

"Latvia!" Lithuania warned. "Stop it, right now… or Mr Russia will come in and stop it."

Latvia grumbled and threw some money on the table, "All this split two ways between Tsar Ivan and Tsar…" here she hesitated, "Vledovo.. Vladavor… Veldemar… Valvivor…" she struggled to say the word.

"Is Latvia big balls having a fit?" Prussia asked.

"What on earth are you on about?" Lithuania asked.

"Vladimir?" Estonia asked.

Latvia shook her head and tried again, "Vevesolod… Vesovolod…"

"You're making this up!" Prussia said, "And you lot laughed at Kevin!"

"There isn't a Tsar Kevin!"

Estonia frowned suspiciously, "Latvia, what are you trying to say? Where did you get this name from?"

"I'm just guessing!" she said with a wide-eyed innocent look.

"Hmmm…" Estonia was not so sure.

"Erm Vevelod the Big Nest!" She said quickly. "That's it!"

"What the fuck?! Are you having a fucking laugh? Big Nest… Okay then, can I have Tsarina Doris the Big Tits?"

"Vsevolod the Big Nest, you say?" Estonia asked her.

"Yes, that's right. I read about him in a history book," she said confidently.

"So why was he called the Big Nest?" Estonia asked.

Lithuania shook his head.

"Because he liked birds? He had a giant birds nest on his head and he kept ducks in there!" Latvia shouted. Surely, he could be true. Most of the Russian Tsars were mad as fishes.

Prussia laughed, "Kesese! Russia's bosses were all bonkers!"

"He had at least fourteen children…"

"What? Big Russkie dude? You're fucking joking me, man? There's no way he's had kids, he wouldn't know the first thing about women!" Prussia laughed.

"Not the boss! Tsar Vsevolod," Estonia said, and then turned his back on him. "That's why he was call the Big Nest."

"I bet that's the only thing that was big," Prussia said and made an obscene gesture and pointed to his crotch.

"So you can't place a bet, Latvia, and all bets are now off!" Estonia said.

"Aw man!" Prussia was outraged.

"Yes, everyone get back to work. Gambling is not good anyway." Lithuania said.

"It's bloody not if there are cheats!" Prussia said.

"And I suppose you never cheated?" Latvia said.

"I don't cheat, I don't need to cheat. I'm awesome, I am."

"Humph."

"Why are you all arguing?" came a creepy voice.

"Shit man! What the hell? Creeping up on us like that!" Prussia was appalled.

"I am secret ninja, da?" Russia smiled creepily. "I don't like it when you argue." He then turned to thin air and said quietly, "No, I will not pull Gilbert's head off."

"Bloody weirdo," Prussia said, gripping his head, and then running out.

Latvia tried to follow but was hauled back by Lithuania, "Not you. You can get your chores done and stop messing around."

"Awww!"

* * *

><p>It was much later. Lativa was exhausted. As punishment for trying to cheat at gambling she was forced to polish Russia's priceless antiques.<p>

The fact that these were located in the creepy attic space next to her bedroom was not helped.

She tried to get the whole lot done as fast as she could, but Russia kept bobbing up to look at her and whisper strange things to his 'dead bosses':

"No, I do not think he should wear a maid's outfit."

"Little Anastasia's music box is up here but I don't know where, if one of you knows can you tell me?"

"I lost the Panda costume, I told you… Yao found out anyway so I can't just sneak in…"

"I don't think any other Nations get haunted by their dead bosses, why me?" he asked her at one point.

She had to admit she didn't know.

She also had to admit to the rest of the Baltics and even Prussia that there was definitely another two presences in that attic with her and Russia. Both smelled musty, she was sure one was wearing Bermuda shorts in a garish yellow and green and she still wasn't sure about the nickname 'Big Nest' or which Tsar Ivan it was. Or perhaps she was drunk from the vodka fumes?

Lithuania and Estonia were convinced it could not have been Tsar Ivan 'the Terrible' as Russia was too calm… at which point Prussia had scoffed, "Fucking nutbag!"

But Russia would have been pleased if he'd heard Lithuania's and Estonia's conversation later that night.

"So, Toris, have you ever been visited by an ex boss? I know I haven't."

"Oh yes… but it's usually one of Pol's telling me to sort Pol out and look after him. Pol never listens to them, he just says 'yeah, like, whatever' and carries on painting his nails."

"I bet Arthur gets visited all the time… you can just tell with those staring eyes. He's almost as mad as the boss."

Oh and Lithuania burned Prussia's gold lamé jacket.

Another day in the life of the Baltics…


	29. Toris' Day Off

**Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.**

**Acknowledgements: Many thanks everyone who reviewed/alerted/favourited and PM'd this story.**

**Warnings: Denmark, Prussia, swearing, England's baking.**

**Late 1950s, Leningrad, Russia's House. Toris is indisposed so how do Russia, the Baltics and Prussia cope?**

Chapter 29: Toris' Day Off

Latvia waited tentatively as Russia, Estonia and Prussia all took their first bite of the pie she'd made. It didn't look terribly appetising, she thought, moving it around on her plate, but Russia at least would eat anything. "Do you like it?" She asked.

Estonia grabbed a glass of water and took a big gulp. Russia's expression was unreadable, and Gil was still trying to swallow.

"It's, er..." Ed began.

He was quickly cut off by Gilbert. "It's amazing, man!"

Latvia brightened up. "It is?"

"Yeah!" Gil grinned. "It's raw and burnt at the same time, I don't even know how the fuck you've managed that. I don't think I've tasted anything this bad since Arthur cooked me a meal after the Battle of Waterloo."

Russia spoke up too, sounding regretful. "I ate boiled rat and God only knows what else at Stalingrad, but I cannot bring myself to take another bite of this."

Gil scooped up another spoonful, bent his spoon back, and aimed the contents at the wall. It stuck. "What did you put in the sauce, anyway? Glue? I feel like it's still stuck in my throat."

"Maybe it was Denmark's hair gel?" Russia suggested. "That is the only thing I can think of stickier than this sauce."

Latvia nudged Ed under the table. "Aren't you going to join in the fun, Estonia?"

Estonia shook his head. "I have no words for this. In any language."

"At least I tried to make something," Latvia retorted. "You three haven't cooked anything. Ed tried to pass off restaurant leftovers as his own cooking, for God's sake."

"I haven't cooked since I lived with Sweden," Estonia answered, looking at her over his glasses, "but I bet I could do better than this without even a recipe. What was this supposed to be?"

"A pie." Latvia told him, folding her arms.

"This was meant to be a pie?!" Gil exclaimed in utter shock. "Where's the fucking pastry then, Mr. Latvia-with-the-huge-balls?"

Russia laid his head in his hands. "It is an insult to pies everywhere. I feel very sad now."

"Right!" Estonia threw down his napkin and got up. 'I've seen Toris make pastry dough enough times, how hard can this be...' He thought, as Latvia and Gil started bickering over who was going to clear the plates and Russia went outside for a cigarette.

Ten minutes later, Latvia was vacuuming the stairs (mainly to get away from Gil, who was pratting about with his hair in the living room mirror and wanted her to hold his pot of gel) when Estonia came dashing out of the kitchen, pastry dough covering his hands and a lens missing from his glasses.

"Run for your life! It's the pie!" He yelled. Except with the vacuum cleaner on Latvia couldn't hear a word; Estonia tried twice more before just shutting the offending machine off. "My pie has come alive and it's rampaging around the kitchen," He explained. "You get the others out of the house; I'll get the exorcism kit out of the attic and-"

"Meow." The "pie" said, rubbing its face against Estonia's trousers.

"Boris must've rolled in your pastry when you turned your back..." Latvia said, rather unnecessarily as the "pie" began purring and licked a splodge of filling off Ed's shoe.

"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious," Ed snapped, shooing the cat away.

At this point Russia came thumping downstairs to see what had become of his dinner. Gil chose the same moment to investigate the commotion, a random bit of hair sticking up on the back of his head.

"Have you made a pie, Esty?" Russia asked in his sing-song voice, smiling as he advanced down the stairs. He stopped and his face fell at the sight of two guilty-looking Baltic states, a confused Prussian and a pie-cat.

"Boris went and rolled in the pie, sir," Ed said, and adjusting his glasses, finally realised that something wasn't quite right there either. "And there might be a glasses lens in the filling anyway..."

Russia had to clarify; "so no dinner? Still?"

"Kesese," Gil laughed, "not unless you wanna eat it off the cat, man! Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd say..."

Russia's lip quivered a bit. "Toriiiiiiiiiis! You can stop being ill now!"

Latvia thought she heard a Lithuanian obscenity in reply, but wasn't sure. Eduard frowned. "Sir, I don't think he can choose to stop, just like that..."

But Russia had already yanked the crucifix from around Gil's neck (to a protest of "Oi! My grandpa gave me that!") and was marching purposefully back upstairs. "God can make him well again, da, or Mr. Pipe will have things to say to him..."

Gil shook his head, looking from Latvia, to Estonia, to the cat, and back again. "I can't take this anymore," He declared dramatically, "I'm calling for help."

"Help" turned out to be Denmark, who was practically mobbed as he walked in the door. "Hey, dudes! I know you can't get enough of me, but I just did my hair, man!"

"It's not you we're interested in," Latvia retorted. "Gil said you were bringing food. Did you or not?"

Den produced a huge suitcase, grinning inanely. "Hell fuckin' yeah I did, bro!"

Gilbert yanked the suitcase out of his hands, swinging it onto the dining table, which creaked loudly under the weight. "What'd you bring, man? Wurst? Some of Tino's santa cookies? Hell, Ber's meatballs give me the shits, but I'm starving, man."

The zip caught, at which point Russia got up and yanked the suitcase apart. Four faces fell as it was yet again proved that Denmark really was, as many Nations had said in the past, an utter bloody moron. "Seriously?" Gil was the first to tell off his fellow-dude, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "You said you brought food."

"That is food!" Denmark protested.

Latvia lunged into the suitcase, and waved what she found in there in his face. "Carlsberg and Danish flag boxers do not constitute food, Denmark!" Realising that she'd just touched Den's underwear, Latvia dropped it on the floor and quickly wiped her hand on Gil's jacket.

Estonia just fell into a chair, a look of utter despair on his face. He still hadn't repaired his glasses, and Latvia thought he looked disconcertingly unlike himself without them.

Russia closed the suitcase with a look of undivided hatred at Denmark. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath, "one of my Tsars once told me that if you want something doing right, you must do it yourself. Come on, kids."

He went to the door and held it open, ushering the others out. Denmark got up and went along with it, although he probably wasn't included in the invitation, but Latvia, worried, gave Estonia a questioning look. The other Baltic shrugged, and everyone went outside so that Russia could do goodness-knows-what.

The Baltics, Prussia and Denmark found themselves seated on benches in the back garden, shivering profusely and wrapped in blankets, while Russia, the cold going unnoticed with him, darted about, constructing a campfire. "There we go!" Russia said cheerily, striking a match. 'That's never going to light in this snow,' Latvia thought, but was wrong as it turned out, Russia somehow managing to get the fire started in the middle of a snowstorm. "I'll just go and get my big pot and some ingredients, and we can have dinner, da?"

An icicle was beginning to form on Gilbert's nose. "What the fuck are we doing out here?" He spat. His saliva immediately turned to ice, and he groaned. "This is bollocks. Does fat commie not know how to use a stove?"

"I think he can only cook on a fire, Gil," Latvia said, and hugged her knees.

"Hey, dude Latvia with the big balls, pass me that bottle of Carlsberg before it freezes," Denmark yelled. (For some reason he was still there, half-way drunk and wearing a Leningrad police officer's hat - no-one asked why.)

"Why are you still here?" Russia asked, with his usual tact.

"Ber and Tino told me to get out and get a proper job," Den said sadly.

"You should!" Russia said. "Lounging around all day, drinking alcohol and wearing stupid things on your head is not dignified for a Nation."

Latvia raised an eyebrow at Gilbert, who in turn looked appalled. "I don't fucking wear a hat!" he said, inexplicably.

Latvia was actually thinking of her boss, but just sighed.

* * *

><p>The past week had been crap, in short.<p>

The television was broken. Russia had slammed his fist into it - as he couldn't find the remote control.

Boris the cat had taken to peeing in people's shoes.

Nobody had eaten much except mouldy potatoes from the larder and beans.

The toilet was blocked.

And there was a strange smell coming from the larder which emanated throughout the house.

The reason the whole world had imploded - or to be precise, the household had come to a grinding halt - Estonia's broken glasses, the TV remote lost, the lack of food, the strange smell coming from the larder and the reason why Boris the cat was refusing to leave the house and not using the litter tray... all of these things were because Toris was ill.

Toris did everything in the house. Well almost everything.

He ran the household. He knew where the TV remote was kept. He knew how to cook. He knew that unless they put down mousetraps that mice would get into the larder. He knew that Boris would only leave the house through the kitchen window - merely opening the kitchen door was not going to cut it. He knew that Boris would not use the litter tray unless he was given a treat first and asked politely. He also knew that the toilet had to be flushed three times minimum if you followed Russia into it.

In short, the household's fragile little routines had completely disintegrated.

Russia had made several visits to Toris' bedroom and held vigils there. Even though he was supposed to be atheist, anti-religious etc, he'd still held a crucifix and prayed at the foot of the Lithuanian's bed as if Toris was mortally ill.

Actually, Toris had a fever and flu. The sight of the big hulking Russian kneeling at the foot of his bed calling upon his Russian god (who happened to live '18 light years away') was startling in the extreme and Toris actually thought he'd died and gone to hell.

But of course, Toris was way too nice for hell. Russia on the other hand had made several visits but that's another story.

* * *

><p>"I wish Toris was better," Latvia whined.<p>

"We all do, little one," Russia said and threw something lumpy into the large pot suspended by sticks over a fire. "This is a recipe I got from somebody in the War," he said.

Before Latvia could stop herself, she said, "Who was that, Sir?"

Russia, his hand frozen in time as he was about to throw potatoes and carrots into the pot, screwed his eyes up as he tried to remember.

Estonia shook his head at her.

Gilbert frowned, "Fucking 'ell, we could be here all fucking day, man."

Russia scoured his memory. His body frozen as if someone had pressed the 'pause' button.

"It doesn't matter though, does it? It wasn't Egon bloody Ronay," Gilbert said.

"Nyet, I do not know him. Was he at Stalingrad? Did he fight on your side, Gilbert?"

Everyone shook their heads.

Then the phone rang.

Everyone looked at each other. Usually it was Toris who answered the phone. He was really the only one sensible enough to do so.

Gilbert got up to answer it, but was pulled back by Estonia, "Not you..." Estonia said.

Latvia sighed and stood up, "I'll get it then shall I?" she said with a sigh.

But she was beaten to it by Den, who jumped up and ran into the house. Everybody looked at one another.

Gilbert gave an explanation. "He's not allowed to answer the phone at Finland's house," he said simply.

They all nodded and then Estonia and Latvia jumped to their feet, wondering what utter carnage could have been caused.

World War 3? A Sino-Soviet War? An invasion of Poland?

It was worse. So much worse. As worse as anybody could imagine it to be. As Gilbert said later, it couldn't have been worser if all the breweries in all the world had stopped producing beer.

Denmark came back outside, grinning from ear to ear, "Sorted, man! All your problems will soon be over."

Estonia frowned, "What did you do?" he said.

"I don't like the sound of this..." Russia said and then exclaimed, "Sergeant Kickemoff!"

"What the bloody hell?" Gilbert exclaimed, "Does he make these fucking names up?"

"No, that's who gave me this recipe..."

"Rat ala carte.." Gilbert said.

"Well you'll be a-okay from about..." Denmark checked his watch, which was amazingly not broken, "Four hours from now..."

"Four hours? Why? What's happening?" Latvia asked, suspicious.

Denmark laughed - horridly, his eyes glinting. Everyone knew about his pranks.

He couldn't have prank-called anyone, could he?

"Who was that on the telephone?" Russia asked, finally. Stirring the pot. It actually smelled quite nice.

"A friend of mine..."

"You don't have any friends!" Latvia laughed.

"I bloody do! There's Gil here and... er..."

"Yes, but he's here, isn't he?"

"It was America," Denmark told them, "Little Alfie's a sweet kid, man."

"What did you tell him?" Estonia said quietly, and put his hand to his glasses to wipe them and found... they were still broken. He sighed.

Russia then stood up and pointed his spoon at Denmark, "Yes, Denmark, what did you tell him?"

"I said you were ill," Denmark said, rubbing his blond head.

"I am not ill!" Russia exclaimed, horrified. He was never ill - he caught the odd cold during mid-winter but that was it.

"Oh yeah..." Denmark frowned, "Who's ill?"

"Toris!"

"Idiot."

"Moron."

"Ah well... his plan won't work then," Denmark said mysteriously and then was chased by a 6 foot Russian brandishing a large spoon.

It was agreed later that it was a good job Denmark was a fast runner - nobody wanted to think of the consequences or his possible visit to a proctologist to remove the spoon.

Nobody wanted to think what America's plan was. And, as they ate the stew that Russia dished up - which was not just edible but quite tasty (weirdly, Russia could only cook when outside using the bare essentials) they forgot all about the phone call.

It was later, much later. Just after Gilbert had put on his boots to find cat urine in them, but before Russia's next scheduled bedside vigil that the doorbell rang...

Latvia answered the door with trepidation. It was almost midnight, she had an old grey army blanket around her shoulders. Russia was snoring on the couch, Estonia was in bed, Prussia was fiddling with his maps and planning his 'escape'. There were two silhouettes at the door.

"Yo! Open the door, commie dude!" came a familiar voice.

"Oh no..." Latvia groaned and then said hurriedly, "I'm sorry we don't want to buy anything!"

"I say old chap, we're not door to door salesmen! Someone said you needed food? Well of course, even though we are supposed to be enemies and all that, we can't possibly let you go hungry..." England said as he stepped through the doorway.

"Yeah... what he said..." America grunted, peering around him. "Dude.. This is so creepy..."

"Alfred! Dude... you came to rescue me?" Prussia came bounding down the stairs, his silver hair stuck up like he'd stuck his finger in a plug socket.

"Hahahaha! Dude man! I came with Artie dude to rescue you guys from near starvation."

"Oh no..." Latvia said. "Den sent you..."

"This ain't good, man." Prussia said, and then did a strange, complicated 'buddy' hand-shake with America, which culminated in Prussia being slapped on the back and falling over - much to America's hilarity.

"How did you get into the country?" Latvia asked, following England in to the kitchen.

"By plane, man!" America told her.

"No, I mean... the KGB... how did you get past the KGB?"

"They let us in when they saw Artie's baking," Alfred told her.

"You... you... you... brought... baking?" Latvia stuttered.

"Of course I did, young Latvia. I brought..." here Arthur pulled several cake tins out of his bag. "A chocolate cake..."

Latvia blinked, the cake had what appeared to be luminous icing on it. It glowed.

"...a few scones..."

Latvia stepped back. She'd heard a rumour that England's scones had helped defeat the Luftwaffe in the Battle of Britain.

England was oblivious, "...a Dundee cake from my brother..." England frowned as he lifted the cake from the tin. It seemed quite heavy, he thought and was confirmed as he placed it on the table - which subsequently collapsed.

Latvia jumped back.

"Fucking hell, man!" Prussia exclaimed aghast. "Are you trying to kill us?"

America thought all this was hilarious, "We're assassins, dude!"

Latvia frowned and then held up a hand for silence.

"What's up, girly chick dude with the big balls?" Prussia asked, and then whispered to America, "Dude looks like a chick and has way too much sass for a tiddly Nation, kesese!"

"I think he's a rather smart little chappy," England said.

"Shush everyone!" Latvia said.

"Well, I say!"

"Dude!"

"What the fuck, Latvia big balls, don't shush the great awesome me!"

"The boss has stopped snoring..." Latvia murmured.

"Well that's jolly good, I must say. Noisy oik. I also brought crumpets..." England pulled a packet of crumpets out of his bag.

To Latvia's relief they were shop-bought and not home-made.

"Is there anything else actually bought from a shop, Mr England?" she asked.

"Well... let me see... I also brought you some good old baked beans. I wasn't sure if you communists had such things..."

"Fuckin' 'ell, don't give fat commie those beans!" Prussia exclaimed.

"Why would that be?" came a creepy voice.

"Aaargh!" Prussia and America both screamed at the same time and attempted to jump into each others' arms as Russia loomed up behind them.

"I say, Russia, we brought you some food!" England said and continued to unload his bags.

"Food?" Russia perked up and picked up a tin of beans. But then frowned when he saw the bright green icing on the cake.

"Why? Just... why? I know we are now enemies... but we were allies in the War," Russia said sadly.

"Creepy dude..." America murmured.

Russia picked up a scone with fascination and weighed it in his hand.

England nodded happily, "Switch the kettle on, Latvia old chap. We'll have scones and butter with a nice cup of tea. I do presume you have Earl Grey?"

"Who's Earl Grey?" Latvia asked, switching on the kettle.

"Bloody hell, Grandma, what is this? A fucking tea party? Didn't you bring beer and crisps? We're dying here, man."

"Beer is for wimps," Russia said, cradling his vodka bottle. He was still fingering the scone with interest. It weighed approximately the same as a bowling ball.

The attempts to slice the scones in two were interesting to say the least. One knife broke, another bent out of shape. Eventually, Russia attempted to break the scone with his pipe. But was utterly appalled (and a little sad) when his pipe snapped in two.

Russia held up the broken pipe, with a sad air, "Look what your scone did!" he said. A purple aura shimmered around him. He'd fought off German battalions with a lead pipe - not that particular one of course - and had never before broken one.

"I'ma outta here," Prussia said, and grabbed America. "Come on, dude. Things are gonna get a bit messy."

Prussia was right. Things did get messy.

Russia roared with rage and smashed the scone against the floor - breaking a floor tile in the process.

"Bloody vandal," England said, still unpacking his bags. "I baked biscuits as well. I presume you would call them cookies."

Latvia held one up - it had the appearance and consistency of an ice hockey puck.

"Are you trying to kill us, England?" Russia growled and then grabbed the Englishman around the neck with one hand.

"Of course not! I'm offended at the suggestion!" England stuttered and wriggled in the Russian's grasp. "If you don't let me go I will ring Francis!"

Russia dropped him as if his hand were on fire.

It was the ultimate threat.

Latvia gasped. "Well it could be worse, he could have said Miss Belarus," she said.

Upstairs in Lithuania's room...

"Big commie bastard's been coming up here every day and praying, man!" Prussia whispered - for once. He was seriously worried about Toris. He usually hated the Lithuanian who had kicked his arse back in the 16th and 17th centuries along with his skirt-wearing Polish dude-friend, but as Toris was the only one who could cook properly, the only one who did the shopping and the only one who could medicate Russia, things had deteriorated drastically and he felt his life was even worse than normal.

America shook his head, "You don't need God, man."

"Godman?" Prussia frowned.

America ignored him and reached inside his Disney backpack and pulled out... a hamburger.

"Food! Ja! I love you, man!" Prussia all but yelled.

The sleeping Lithuanian stirred, his pale face twitched.

America shook his head and placed the burger on the Lithuanian's forehead. "There, that always works. It worked for Artie, man."

"Who's Artyman?"

To Russia's dismay, England was still unpacking cake tins.

"Scottish shortbread - my brother, Hamish, baked this for you."

Latvia almost leapt on it and handed a piece to Russia. Russia sniffed it as if he were a dog, took a gulp of vodka and tasted a small piece.

Latvia waited, holding her own piece. Russia was practically invincible though, she thought, if it doesn't poison him, it may kill her.

"Hmm... it's okay..." Russia said quietly and took another gulp of vodka.

"A jar of marmite... that should make Lithuania much better..." England continued, pulling out a large black jar.

Russia unscrewed the lid and peered at the black tarry substance within. "Wut is this?" he asked.

"Old chap?" England frowned and then turned to Latvia, who was still smelling the shortbread, "What did he say, Latvia young chap? My Russian is not very good."

"He's speaking English. He said what is this."

"Ah... it's marmite. The finest yeast extract spread known to man." England said.

Russia dipped a finger in it and licked said finger. He growled and threw the jar at the wall where it shattered leaving a black tar smear. "It tastes like the inside of a demon's armpit," Russia announced.

England was appalled. "It is the finest substance known to man. Demon's armpit?! How the bloody hell in the name of my Aunt Josephine, would you know that?"

Russia shrugged, "Demons sometimes visit me..." he said quietly.

Latvia looked up alarmed and then shrugged and took a cloth and began cleaning.

England lifted out yet another cake tin.

Russia stepped back, it was like those Matryoshka dolls. But Russia doubted that anything nice was going to come out.

"My piece de resistance..." England then frowned at his own awful French. "A Victoria sponge cake!"

"Who is Victoria?" Russia asked, eyeing the cake warily.

England almost fell over in shock. He even spilled his cup of tea. "Queen Victoria! One of my greatest queens!" He all but yelled.

"Isn't she dead?" Russia asked.

"Yes, of course she is," England said.

"I'm not surprised if she ate that," Latvia mumbled.

Russia, very carefully, using a long spoon, prodded the cake.

Boris-cat, who had been watching the whole unpacking with unblinking large blue eyes, yowled and ran off.

There was a 'splut' sound and part of the cake collapsed, a splodge of bright red jam erupted from the cake like lava from a volcano. There was a strange bubbling sound.

"Don't poke it, you heathen!" England said.

"Will it bite?" Russia asked.

There was a 'glop' sound and cream spluttered out of the hole Russia had made.

Russia stepped back. "I think England is trying to kill me, Latvia," he whispered. He was seriously considering throwing England out of the house, but was fearful of what other baking goods the Englishman had with him.

"I also brought some other food..." England said, pausing to take a sip of tea.

Russia held up a parcel and carefully, but with much trepidation, unwrapped it. It contained what appeared to be balls of meat. He raised an eyebrow and then rubbed his head.

"Faggots!" England announced.

Russia was appalled, "I am not! How dare you! I wonder about Prussia, Estonia and little Latvia. And Lithuania is gay at the weekends with Poland..."

"They're a kind of meatball," England explained, slowly.

"I'm not gay!" Latvia exclaimed, waving a filthy, marmite covered rag at Russia.

"And my brother sent some haggis," England continued.

"Is that dead? It looks like something Latvia cooked earlier... it was supposed to be a pie..." Russia shuddered, "I do not think it was a pie, this looks more like a pie than Latvia's pie..."

Before Russia could continue lamenting the lack of a pie, England pulled out several tins. "Spotted dick!" the Englishman announced.

Russia was lost for words.

Latvia laughed out loud.

"Kesese! You shouldn't sleep with Francy-pants!" Prussia yelled as he entered the kitchen. He observed the ruined cake and the marmite-covered wall. "What happened? Is there a war on?"

"I have not... nor have I ever... you scoundrel... dirty, filthy, German lout..." England picked up one of his scones and shoved it in Prussia's open mouth.

"I am leaving!" England announced, "I came here to help a fellow Nation and I have been abused, ridiculed and insulted."

Russia nodded, "Da, you have."

"Alfred! Get down these stairs, we are leaving! I've never been so insulted in all my life!" England said.

"You don't get out much then," Russia said, opening the front door for him.

America slid down the bannister. At the top of the stairs, Estonia - having woken from his sleep with all the noise - rubbed his tousled head and frowned. With his lack of glasses he could barely see who was shouting. He really hoped it wasn't England.

"I did to Livonania what I did to you when you had that cold, Arty dude."

"Poor boy..." England said, shoving him out of the door.

Russia slammed the door behind them and raced up the stairs, two at a time. "Toris!" he yelled. He sounded in a blind panic. What could the American had done to the poor, defenseless Lithuanian?

Toris appeared in his bedroom doorway, clutching a burger and rubbing his head. "How long have I been asleep?" he mumbled.

Russia swept him into his arms, "Toris! I thought you were going to die! Don't ever be ill again!" Russia picked up the Lithuanian and put him back to bed, tucking the blankets in around him rather too tight. "We need you... Latvia's pie... and England brought baking..." Russia shuddered.

"I bloody heard that! Ungrateful scoundrels!" England shouted from the driveway, "Come on, Alfred. Let's go to my embassy and have a nice decent cup of tea. Bloody foreigners. They have no appreciation of English cuisine."

"That's true, Artie. Wait... what's cuisine? Isn't that a French word?"

"Shut up."

And so... after another day in bed, which involved being given something that resembled a cake (the remains of the Victoria sponge) with lumpy custard custard so thick he stood a spoon in it) and slices of bread with some tar-like substance spread on it (marmite - which Russia had been told was a 'wonder-drug and could cure all ills' by England) which Lithuania actually, much to the household's awe, liked, Lithuania returned to household duties.

Boris stopped peeing in Prussia's boots and resumed his outdoor activities.

The strange smell in the larder was eliminated - Lithuania placed a few scones in the larder and strangely these killed the mice.

The toilet was unblocked.

The television had been replaced.

Estonia's glasses were fixed.

Nobody was hungry anymore as normal service was resumed.

A few weeks later...

Lithuania sneezed. Latvia froze with a duster in her hand. Prussia grabbed some beer bottles and tins of beans and headed for the garden shed - hoping to 'ride it out'. Estonia ran to the telephone to ring for a doctor. Russia grabbed the Lithuanian in a bear-hug. "Nyet! Lithuania... don't be ill!"

"I think I'm allergic to marmite!" Lithuania said. (He'd had been eating marmite on his toast every morning, believing that it would keep him fit and well.) "Perhaps I should go and visit Pol until I'm better?"

As it happened, Lithuania was not going anywhere as he found Latvia and Russia clinging to his legs. Russia howling that he was going to 'kill England' and that this was a 'ruse to assassinate him'.

Another day in the life of the Baltics.

**Possible future chapters - The 'Stans, China teaches martial arts, a conference in Soviet Russia or "How to cause a riot in a Soviet Hotel".**


	30. The Stans

This 'episode' takes place two days after Prussia/Gilbert made his most awesome escape (Chapters 9 and 10).

Very long chapter - apologies.

A Day in the Life

Chapter 30 - The Stans

Latvia woke up and immediately wished that she hadn't. Her head felt as if there was a noisy drunk Frenchman living in it. She stuck her head under her pillow, trying to blank out the bright sunlight glaring through her attic bedroom window. Why did she drink so much vodka? She groaned and the sound hurt her ears.

She heard a yell from Lithuania downstairs calling her for breakfast. She groaned again, glanced out of the window, did a double take and staggered out of bed. There in the garden was a yak.

24 hours earlier

Gilbert had left and Latvia thought that she would miss his impersonations of the boss and his rantings and the fact that she used to taunt him mercilessly about various things (mainly his lack of muscles, his penchant for starting wars and losing them, his 'bromance' with Denmark and his 'awesomeness' of which she'd seen very little).

Preparations were under way for a party, an unusual feature in Russia's house. A party to celebrate the silence, calm and quiet that had fallen over the house since the Prussian had gone.

Russia had festooned the house in bunting, Toris had baked a celebratory cake, Estonia had sent out invites to a 'party'.

Russia was disappointed at the invitees and didn't hesitate voicing his disappointment. "You invited the Stans?" he yelled at Estonia when he saw the list.

"Well… Sir… they are your subjects and…"

"They are all boring. None of them drink. Tajikistan's idea of a good time is milking his yak," Russia said, right in Estonia's face.

"One of them has a yak? That is brilliant!" Latvia said.

"Yes, but I'm sure he wouldn't bring it here," Lithuania said.

"And they do nothing but moan and one of them has the biggest head," Russia continued.

"Wow…" Latvia said, her eyes wide, imagination running wild about someone with a physically large head.

"And none of them drink, they are all Muslims so they do not drink or eat meat," Russia said sadly.

"I don't think… isn't that buddhists?" Lithuania said with a frown.

"All they do all day is pray to Ali Baba," Russia said.

"Allah," Lithuania corrected with a shake of his head, "But I don't think…"

"Exactly, they are in the Soviet Union now where the State is everything and they shouldn't need religion," Russia said firmly, remembering what his boss had said, although Russia privately thought his boss was a complete tosser and people should be able to do what they want in the privacy of their house and church. Besides Russia did quite like churches.

"So who are these Stans?" Latvia asked.

"They are all very very boring, no fun at all, and I cannot understand why Estonia has invited them to our Gilbert has left party," Russia said and stomped out.

Lithuania raised an eyebrow at Estonia. Estonia shrugged.

"You didn't invite them just to make money out of them at poker did you, Ed?" Lithuania asked.

"Who, me?" Estonia was appalled. "Of course not. Like the boss said, they are boring, teetotal, don't gamble, don't drink, pray all the time, devout Muslims…"

Later…

Russia surveyed the party preparations - a cake baked by Lithuania, vodka, a pack of cards (Estonia seemed to think this was going to be a poker night, Russia decided not) and balloons. The latter were not something Russia liked - when they popped they made him jump.

"This party is going to be very boring," Russia said again with a sigh and surveyed the balloons Latvia had strung up.

The small Baltic had hung 13 balloons on the wall and had written on them in black marker pen. In a line they should have read "BYE BYE GILBERT" with one letter on each balloon. Unfortunately, the balloons did not stay still and bounced around and instead of saying "BYE BYE GILBERT" they read "BEERY BYE GIBLET", "GERBIL BYE BYTE" and sometimes "BE BEERY BY GILT". Russia wasn't sure if the last one was an order. He frowned. There was something almost demonic in the way they bounced around the room and showed him different 'messages'.

"BEG LIBERTY BYE," Russia read out the latest out loud. He was worried, that seemed like a threat to him. He would have popped the balloons with a knife, but the sound always made him jump. He took a swig of vodka.

Latvia entered the room, just catching the Russian's comment and hurried back out.

"Toris… I'm worried, I think the boss is going to lock us up," she said breathlessly to Lithuania.

Lithuania shook his head, "For goodness sake, Raivis, get into that kitchen and start pouring drinks, our guests are here."

There are many strange things that had happened to Latvia since she'd moved into Russia's house. The day she'd walked into Russia's study and found Prussia clinging to the bookcase, the mystery of the Winter Solstice, and the visits of the 'dead tsars'. But this was a new one. She opened the kitchen door to find… a yak. A full grown yak. In the kitchen. Chewing cud.

She shut the door.

Opened it again. It was still there.

"Oh," she said to no-one in particular. "It's a yak."

"Tajikistan," Russia said, suddenly appearing behind her.

"What?" she said, jumping in the air in surprise. And then, "How did you get there?"

"Secret ninja, da?" Russia grinned.

"Tajikistan?" Latvia asked, going back to the original question.

"Da!" Russia confirmed and strode into the kitchen, side-stepping neatly passed the animal and switched the kettle on.

"Surely the personification of the Nation of Tajikistan isn't a yak?" Latvia was horrified.

Russia looked at her and then at the yak and then back at her. "Nyet, this is Ted," he said as if that was the end of the matter.

"Ted?" Latvia looked at the yak, which looked at her.

She tentatively stroked its head, although she had to stand on tiptoes to do so.

It continued to chew and swished its tail.

"I like its bridle," Latvia said, pointing at its quite elaborate bridle.

Russia nodded.

Latvia waited to see if there was to be any other explanation and then finally gave up and asked, "Why is it in our kitchen?"

"Tajikistan takes his yak everywhere," Russia said and then shook his head and indicated by twirling his fingers at his temple that his fellow Nation was nutty, "He is slightly mad. Tajik, that is. Not Ted."

"He'll fit in well, then," Latvia said.

"Wut?"

"He looks well," Latvia corrected hurriedly.

"Da. Ted is! When I was growing up, my best friend was a yak."

"Riiiiiiight," Latvia had no idea what to say to this. She didn't normally spend this long with the boss on her own. He was just stood staring at her. "So where is Tajikistan?" she asked.

Russia pointed out of the window. "He and his brothers are trying to put up his yurt."

"Yurt?" Latvia asked.

Russia frowned, "I wonder about you, little Latvia. I think you need a hearing test."

Latvia ignored him and looked out of the window. In Russia's garden, to Latvia's disgust, squashing her flower beds, were four tall, dark-haired men fighting with a large piece of canvas. They all appeared to be shouting at each other and gesticulating wildly. One sat himself down and shouted at the other three. Another threw a pile of bamboo sticks at one of the others and, to Latvia's alarm, pulled a scimitar from its scabbard on his back and waved it at him. One of the men - the tallest, grim-looking, with a black beard, dark eyes and wearing long robes like an Arab shouted something and waved his hand at the house.

Latvia ducked down and said to Russia, "I think there's trouble!"

Russia looked out of the window, his hand resting heavily on the small Baltic's head, "They are very silly! I wonder if one of them will have to go to hospital again?"

Latvia's eyes widened.

She heard more yelling outside and then the window smashed and a cabbage - or what looked to be a cabbage - landed on the floor beside her.

She looked at Russia who, grim-faced, pulled out his pipe and stepped outside - opening the door first.

Latvia stood up and peered through the broken window, ignoring the now gentle mooing from the yak behind her.

The four men were in the middle of what appeared to be a four-way fight when Russia stepped out. But one threw down his sword hurriedly and put his hands up, another tried to run away, another waved at the others yelling something inexplicable, while the tallest one approached Russia tentatively and tried to shake his hand. Russia shoved him out of the way, grabbed the one trying to run away and the one yelling and, a hand around each neck, banged their heads together. He turned to the one who had thrown his sword down and obviously told him off, shoved the tall one out of the way again and strode back to the house.

"This party is not going to be any fun," Russia told Latvia.

In fact, he was wrong.

It was a lot of fun.

Firstly, the Stans themselves were a revelation to Latvia and she wondered why she had never met them before.

Uzbekistan - the tallest and fattest, who looked very grim and wore traditional desert garb was actually very funny. Kazakhstan was the one who had yelled at the others and seemed to not have a volume button. Tajikistan - the Yak and yurt owner was the one who had tried to run away and flinched every time Russia came near him. He also brought out, from under his cloak a bottle of something that he called 'yak's milk' which was actually some fiery home-made liquid that Russia told Latvia she must never drink. Turkmenistan was the Stan who had pulled out a sword and also the one who had thrown a cabbage through Russia's kitchen window. He continued to swish his curved sword around in Russia's living room, until it was taken from him by Russia who snapped it in half and gave it him back.

Another Stan - Kyrgyzstan had been invited, but was late, along with Azerbaijan, who, Russia told Latvia, had a 'massive' head.

All of them were tall, dark, with black beards and smoked Turkish cigarettes which they offered Latvia.

One of them (Latvia wasn't sure which) had taken down three balloons and proceeded to do a 'balloon dance'. Indicating that in their country women did belly-dances and removed their clothes. He was halted at this point by Russia who told him to sit down.

Then there was a mad cossack dance. Latvia had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stop from laughing at the four Stans and Russia cossack dancing round the living room, after each twirl and loud 'Hey!' they had to down a tumbler of vodka. They stopped when two fell down in a heap, Russia fell over them and almost crashed into the stereo player. Lithuania hurried back out to replenish the vodka.

The doorbell rang.

It was Estonia who answered it. Latvia heard her Eduard's unusually terse voice in the hallway.

"Azerbaijan," Ed said, somewhat sternly.

"Estonia," came a foreign voice.

The man who came into the room could only be described as a god in human form. Or at least, as Russia called him, a cheap knock-off version of France.

Azerbaijan was tall, dark and very very handsome. Designer stubble, perfectly cut hair, dark come-to-bed eyes, and a sexy swagger. He smiled a flashy white smile at Latvia and then at the Stans, but then back at Latvia. He looked like a toothpaste commercial.

"Hello kids!" he said, "What have we got here? Did I just die and go to heaven? Who is this gorgeous little…" he began, slithering down on the sofa beside Latvia.

"Brother Azi!" said one of the Stans and lifted Azerbaijan off his feet and gave him a big bear hug. "I love you! We love you! That watch you sold me was wonderful! I still have it!" he rolled up his sleeve and showed Latvia an obviously fake Rolex watch (the 'o' half missing) which had stopped.

"It doesn't seem to be working…" Latvia pointed out.

"No! But it's still wonderful!" said the Stan.

Estonia had followed Azerbaijan into the room, "I see you're still selling rubbish, Azi…" he began to say.

'Azi' opened his luxury wool overcoat, revealing an expensive Italian-made suit underneath and at least two dozen watches, bracelets and necklaces - all hanging from the inside of his coat. "Pick one, little Latvia. You can have one!"

"Really?" Latvia said, her eyes wide.

Russia frowned, "Do not lead my little Baltic into your weird ways, Azerbaijan," he said, mysteriously.

"Big brother Russia! It's so good to see you!" Azi said, he winked at Latvia.

"It is?" Russia was confused.

"Of course! I see you've lost weight! And that hair conditioner I sold you is making your hair look really shiny…" Azi said.

"That hair conditioner made my scalp itch…" Russia said.

Azi shrugged and turned back to Latvia, "Pick a necklace for that lovely neck… it's yours… for 50 per cent off!"

"Latvia is a boy," Russia told Azi.

Azi shrugged, "So?"

Estonia shook his head and turned to walk out, but bumped into a much smaller Stan who had arrived with Azi, but was stood trying to be inconspicuous.

He was inconspicuous. Kyrgyzstan smiled shyly, shook hands with Estonia and introduced himself.

"Oh right…" Estonia said, "Do you play poker?"

Kyrgyzstan beamed. He wasn't used to being spoken to, recognised or included in anything. He was the smallest Stan, bordered by his more exuberant brothers, he felt very left out.

"Krygy.. Kryz… Kryzy…" Latvia of course had trouble saying his name.

Kyrgyzstan smiled patiently while his brothers roared as if it were the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard. Kyrgyzstan was used to people not being able to say his name.

Russia shook his head and apologised for her. "Latvia is European… He has no Russian blood at all in him. Not Asian like us…" (Latvia often forgot that most of Russia was Asian.)

"My name means forty," Kyrgyzstan said quietly to her. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Forty?" Latvia was confused.

"That's his IQ!" Kazakhstan laughed, slapping his brother on his back.

"The forty clans that made up my land many years ago… before…" he began to say, but was pulled away by one of the other Stans who berated him for possibly upsetting 'Big Brother Russia'.

"And now they are all under the great Soviet Union!" Russia announced. "All of you, all under my house…" he took a swig of vodka.

Nobody said anything.

"I brought my yurt!" Tajikistan told Kyrgyzstan.

This obviously upset the newcomer. "You told me I was not to bring mine!" Kyrgyzstan exclaimed. "Uzbekistan told me I had to move with the times and not be back in the 13th Century!" It was the most anyone had heard him say in forty years.

Russia threw an empty vodka bottle against the wall where it smashed and opened another, "The 13th Century were not good times, my little Stans…"

Latvia looked around. The 'little' Stans were all six foot tall and almost as broad as Russia (Uzbekistan was positively portly).

There were murmurings which grew in intensity. Somebody mentioned Genghis Khan, which was never good. His was a name, like Hitler's that was never spoken of in Russia's house.

Thankfully, before Russia could go in full kolkolkol mode, the doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it!" Estonia called.

As five Stans, Russia and Azi were reminiscing about Genghis Khan, the Mongol Hordes and the lack of television back in the 13th Century, the next visitors made their presence felt very quickly.

"Big Brother!" A familiar creepy voice called menacingly from the doorway, prompting various reactions from those already assembled in the living room.

"Oh noooo…."

"Who invited _her?"_

"Is there time for us to escape through the window?"

"Can I come with you, little Stans?"

"I've always loved her…"

"Who said that?" Russia asked suddenly of the last comment.

Nobody answered as Belarus and her sister came in.

"So you got rid of little Kaliningrad? Did he actually escape or did you kill him?" Ukraine asked.

Belarus wrapped her arms around Russia, "I will never ever ever ever ever leave you," she told him.

Russia groaned and eyed the window, wondering if he could get his 6 foot 2 inch frame through the aperture.

It was evident that the Stans, bar one, were terrified of Belarus.

Uzbekistan, the oldest and biggest, gazed at Belarus with hearts in his eyes. He pulled out a bunch of battered orchids from his robes and approached the Belorussian.

This would be interesting, Latvia thought.

But Belarus suddenly let go of her brother when she saw Azerbaijan.

"Azi! You came!"

"Yes… I er…" Azi looked around wildly for an escape route. "I did not know you would be here… my little… er… flower…" he said, hesitantly.

Belarus practically jumped on him, "I'll never forget that night we spent… in that cheap motel…"

"It was a five star hotel, Miss Belarus… and…" Azi fidgeted.

"And… you got locked in the bathroom… all night…" Belarus continued.

Azi's brothers laughed. Russia tapped his foot impatiently. Uzbekistan scrunched the orchids between his fingers and stormed out. Lithuania was stood in the doorway and patted the Uzbek's shoulder in commiseration.

"So we could not consummate our love… A love such as ours… Even though you are not my brother…"

"Er yes…" Azi said quietly, looking round wildly for an escape route. His brothers were rolling on the floor laughing.

They were soon shut up when Russia growled quietly, "Then you should be married… Both of you…" He said. "To each other…" he added hurriedly.

Belarus looked at her brother and then at Azi and then back, "Oh brother… You know you and I will be one…"

"Or perhaps not… obviously you and Mr Azerbaijan should be one," Russia said quickly.

"And I still have that necklace you bought me, dear Azi… I wear it always…" Belarus lifted her blond hair to reveal a cheap gold necklace … and a green neck.

"It's a match made in heaven," Ukraine said drunkenly and passed her sister a large tankard of her very own home-made mead.

"You should be married!" Another Stan said.

Azi backed away hurriedly and made a run for it. He was stopped in the doorway by yet another new visitor.

Poland looked him up and down, "Yo Azerbaijan, how's it hanging?"

"Poland, you're looking charming, can I interest you in…"

"No you can't. And you can't charm me with your vagabond good looks and your cheap knock-off jewellery," Poland said. He then yelled, "Braginski!"

Russia frowned, "Wut? Who invited you, Polska?"

"I invited myself, sweetie."

Russia was not pleased at this.

"I heard that Gilbert had escaped and thought you'd be having a party and you'd need me to liven it up," Poland smiled and held up a large bundle of letters, "You have some post, Braginski."

Russia grinned, "Post! I thought everyone was ignoring me!"

"I found it at the top of your driveway…" Polska said, accepting a beer from Ukraine. He turned to Azerbaijan, "So, Azi… do you still have that picture of France in your wallet?"

Everyone roared with laughter.

Apart from Russia. "I wonder why the postman's started leaving the post so far from the house?"

"I think the postman thought we had a large dog and got scared," Latvia said quietly.

Russia shrugged, his attention beginning to wander as he remembered the letters in his hands and began riffling through them. "Oh! Here are the letters from those people who couldn't come!" Russia said excitedly, throwing bills for electricity, several parking tickets and an important looking letter from the Soviet Government on the fire.

"Francis Bonnefoy is a god to me," Azerbaijan said and blushed.

Ukraine almost choked on her mead.

"Do you still have those pictures of France on your bedroom wall?" one of his brothers asked.

"You may scoff but one hour in the presence of that man… that god… that glorious Nation… changed my life forever…" Azerbaijan continued.

Russia ignored the shouting and started to read some letters, "Here's the one from Georgia. She said she couldn't come to the party because she was washing her hair!"

"She has very long hair," Kazakhstan said wisely, sloshing beer around.

"Francis changes a lot of people's lives… not always for the better," Poland said.

"Siberia said he did not come because he doesn't want to…" Russia said and smiled.

"He didn't stop talking about Francis when he met him a hundred years ago at an opera," Kazakhstan explained to Latvia - presumably about Azerbaijan and not Siberia.

"He was amazing! He sang so well!" Azi said, his eyes blurring over.

"Hahaha! Francis couldn't carry a tune in a bucket!" Poland laughed.

"We see France all the time at conferences…" Latvia began, her eyes wide. The idea that somebody would fanboy over the Frenchman was hilarious.

"Then you are truly blessed," Azi said.

"Kiev can't come because he's on tour with his band," Russia shook his head as he read the letter and gave his big sister an admonishing look.

"My little boy," Ukraine slurred.

"Sweden and Finland sent their apologies and said they couldn't come because they're looking for Denmark who's gone on the run in an ice cream van with Gilbert… and apparently, it's all my fault!" Russia read slowly and then scrunched up the letter and threw it on the fire.

"I saw Francis the other day. He was bitching about Arthur again. They need to get with the 21st Century, I told him as he was messing with Arthur's needlework that this was 1960 and not 1060," Poland said, and then squealed with delight when Lithuania came in with a tray of titbits.

"Toris!" he hugged the taller Nation and popped a cupcake in his mouth.

Russia would have punched him if he hadn't been looking at the next letter with shiny eyes, his cheeks pink.

"Who's that one from, boss?" Latvia asked, puzzled.

Russia flushed, "Just a friend…" he smiled.

"Moldova and Armenia didn't come because they're miserable," Uzbekistan told them, "I invited them but Moldova was going to visit Romania and Armenia said he didn't want to come to a Stan party ever again after the last time."

"Why, what happened last time?" Latvia asked, still watching Russia as her boss read his letter, a little smile on his face.

"Little Latvia, let me tell you an old desert parable…" Uzbek began.

His brothers all groaned.

"It is better for a man on a camel to enter the kingdom of Allah than to wake up on a slow boat to Peru in fancy dress," Uzbek told Latvia with a wise nod.

"Yes, I can imagine…" Latvia said.

Kazakhstan stole up behind Russia and read the letter in his boss' hands over his shoulder. "Dear Ivan," he read, "I cannot come to your most esteemed party… ooh that's harsh…" (Kazakh shook his head sorrowfully) "…I have problems with my harvest and my boss says I am not to come to your house unless I bring fifty armed guards which I believe may compromise your celebrations. I send chopsticks and a recipe for very good sweet and sour sauce. That sauce I had at your house was not of good standard. Best wishes, comrade Yao Wang." Kazakhstan shook his head, "Best wishes… that is very sarcastic… Yao Wang can be very harsh…" he said sadly.

Russia pulled away and glared at the Stan. Kazakhstan shrugged. Uzbekistan, at the other side of Russia, read the rest of the letter with a frown on his dark face, "PS How is Sergei? Make sure little Siberia eats his greens."

Russia punched the older Stan, knocking him into his brother and stomped out, taking his letter with him.

"Well that was weird," Poland said with a frown. Nobody else was listening.

"I got a letter from Francis once… I treasure it always," Azi said dreamily.

"That wasn't a letter, you fool of a camel's tic, that was an invoice for wine!" Uzbek said, getting to his feet.

"It was still addressed to me! You've never understood me!" Azi flounced out, swishing his hair in what he thought was in Francis' style.

"What a goon," Poland laughed.

Latvia got up from the sofa where she'd been trapped between Tajikistan and Kyrzygstan - both of whom insisted on her calling them "Taji and Kryzi" respectively.

And both of whom were trying to outdo each other with tales of living in yurts with yaks and how forbidding their respective countries were. The deal-breaker was when one of them stated that their country was the harshest as "they had to get up at 3 am to milk the yaks before shovelling yak shit, then walking 100 miles to get water with their yaks, and then fighting their way back through bears, wolves and dangerous tribes just to do it all again in the afternoon…"

She found Russia in the kitchen with Estonia - the former looking pissed off, drinking a second vodka bottle, the latter also looking annoyed, setting up a poker table - which nobody seemed to be interested in. 'Ted' seemed to be the only happy soul in the house. (Apart from Poland and Ukraine who were regaling each other with the latest gossip.)

Then there was the distinct sound of … Elvis?!… coming from Russia's sitting room.

"What is that noise?" Russia asked and then said, putting his head in his hands, "Oh no, I was afraid of this… I told you, Estonia," here he turned to Eduard, "… not to invite them."

Latvia jumped up and ran into the sitting room.

To be fair, the Stans, whose party speciality was Elvis impersonations, made a decent Elvis - between three of them.

Azi looked like Elvis (but couldn't sing), Uzbek sounded like Elvis (but couldn't dance) and Kazak could dance (but sang like a wounded yak).

"You ain't nothin' but a hound dog, cryin' all the time…" sang Uzbek stood on Russia's desk - which had been dragged in by the Stans. On the desk next to him was Azi who was miming with a hairbrush (he even wore a quite awful white jumpsuit with rhinestones) and Kazak who was dancing quite madly - still in his desert robes. Tajik accompanied them on Russia's very old piano.

Ukraine, Belarus, Poland (who was laughing hysterically), Lithuania (to his shame) and Kryzy all sat clapping along to the music.

Russia called through from the kitchen, "Rimsky-Korsakov played on that piano! It is a travesty!"

"We don't know that tune!" Azi shouted back.

"Come and sit with me, little Latvia," 'Kryzy' told Latvia and patted a seat next to him. She plonked herself down and wondered, not for the first time, if she was not just a little too drunk. Ukraine passed her a large tankard of Ukrainian home-made mead.

"Jailhouse Rock next! Huhhuh…" Azi grunted.

"Jailhouse Duck?" Russia called from the kitchen.

But there was a brief fight on the 'stage' which drowned Russia out. "I do the singing!" Uzbek hit Azi over the head with a microphone (bizarrely the big fat Uzbeki carried one everywhere in case of impromptu Elvis impersonation competitions - of which there were very little in his country).

"You always do the singing!" Azi protested and tried to hit his older brother back, punching him in the stomach and getting his fist stuck in the fat.

Kaz carried on dancing and was shoved off the desk by Uzbek, who then resumed singing.

Kaz didn't seem to notice and jitterbugged around the room. But on the desk, things got ugly.

"I bet you don't see this at your average Elvis concert?" Poland said, his eyes shining.

Lithuania covered his eyes.

The problem was, and Russia knew only too well, the Stans were okay singly, or even in pairs, but if they spent too long all together all-out war would erupt.

War did erupt on the desk/stage. Azi was trying to shove his much bigger brother off the desk and grabbed his microphone. This resulted in Uzbek, who doubled as a professional heavyweight wrestler in his spare time, flinging his much smaller brother onto the floor, jumping on top of him and putting him in an excruciating head-hold. Azi yelled, "Mind the hair! Mind the hair!"

"I'm going to tell Big Brother Russia," Kaz said decidedly, stopped dancing and strode out.

In the kitchen, Estonia had finally found someone to play poker with - Turkmenistan was quite an innocent soul and was being fleeced.

Turkmenistan buried his head in his hands, "I have lost twenty yaks to Estonia," he told Kaz as the latter Nation burst in.

"Big Brother Russia! There is trouble…" Kaz said breathlessly, ignoring his brother.

In the living room, Uzbek and Azi were rolling on the floor, the latter heavily outweighed by his larger brother, was looking less like a rock star and more like a small bullied kid.

"Get some popcorn, Liet," Poland said, "This is great." As Uzbek put Azi in a leglock and shouted at him that he was not 'Elvis'.

In the kitchen…

"Twenty yaks!" Estonia was appalled. "I thought we were playing for money," he said.

"I've told you before, no more Elvis Priestley! The last time at that conference in Yerevan was bad enough. You were all rubbish and you got us all thrown out…" Russia said as he picked the two Nations up by their ears.

"I resent that!" Azi said and then added, "We did Chuck Berry that night…"

Uzbek carried on singing 'Are you lonesome tonight' at Belarus whilst dangling from Russia's hand.

Russia dropped them on the floor and turned his attention to Tajik who was still hammering away on the piano. Uzbek may have been singing an Elvis song, but Tajik was playing an old Tajikistani folk tune. Russia evidently didn't like it - he dropped the piano lid on the Tajik's fingers.

"Brothersh! You're a hero! You shtopped a poshible war!" Belarus slurred and then fell over.

Ukraine sniffed her sister's empty glass, "How many glashes of my mead did she have?" she slurred at Poland.

"Slightly more than you, dear Katya," Poland said, laughing.

"I did! And I am!" Russia grinned (several beats behind - still answering Belarus) and picked up his desk - with Azi clinging to it who was telling the Russian that he was a 'star' and 'they hadn't realised it yet' and took it back to its rightful place.

Everyone would say later that it was Uzbek's fault what happened next, although many of the people present were already so drunk they wouldn't have been able to say what century they were in.

However, it was Tajik who made the mistake of drawing out his sword, whilst still sat at the piano, his fingers still quite numb from the lid-slamming. He waved it at Uzbek, who had been yelling at Azi that he 'wasn't a star but just a cut-price version of France' and yelled at his brothers, "Big Brother Turkey should be here!"

It can only be assumed how much alcohol Tajik had drunk to make him say that. Even Poland gasped.

Two balloons popped above the Tajiki's head and he staggered a little.

There was a moment's silence - the calm before a storm. And then the storm hit.

Russia charged back in, "KOLKOLKOL BIG BROTHER TURKEY? AND WHO POPPED THAT BALLOON?"

"I'm sorry about your balloon, oh great and glorious Russia…" Tajik said and prostrated himself before the Russian. He then made the bad decision of holding out a balloon to Russia as if that would make everything alright.

It didn't. It made things a whole lot worse.

The balloon popped.

Russia jumped almost five feet in the air.

Somebody laughed (no-one would own up to who it was - Toris suspected it was Poland).

Russia grabbed Tajik and bodily carried him out of the house, into the garden and wrapped the still dismantled yurt around Tajikistan's head.

"I do not like balloons!" Russia said, somewhat unnecessarily.

He turned to stomp back in the house. Then something happened. Or Uzbek, Kaz and Turkmenistan happened. All three brothers leapt on Russia and hammered blows on his back.

"All for one and one for all!" Uzbek shouted.

It was tantamount to how much of Ukraine's mead they must have consumed that they seemed to think they could get away with this or even defeat Russia.

As Uzbek said later "Nobody bullies my brothers but me."

As Russia said later "I don't start fights, I finish them."

Kazakhstan was picked up and used as a weapon to hit Uzbekistan. Kaz finally passed out when his head hit his older brother's head. Turkmenistan was still on Russia's back hitting him rather ineffectually in the meantime but was thrown off and landed with a 'whump' in Latvia's compost heap.

Estonia came running out, "Don't hurt him, he owes me money!" he yelled and then shut up when he saw the purple aura emanating from Russia and the demonic gleam in his eyes.

Toris grabbed Estonia and held him back, "Shush Ed, leave it, it's only money…"

Eduard almost fainted.

"Or you'll get yaks instead of roubles." Poland sniggered and winced as a flying Stan went whizzing past them, over their heads and through what remained of the kitchen window.

"Oooh that's got to hurt…" Poland said and watched as Russia picked up another Stan and dumped him in the ancient apple tree.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it…" Toris said with a sigh. He stepped past Ukraine who was watching her brother beat up smaller Nations, and then Belarus who had passed out leaning against the doorjamb and answered the door.

He hoped, for once, it was the KGB, to take away the Stans. It wasn't. It was someone worse.

Their next door neighbour, a grumpy 'Babushka' with a hairnet on her head and wearing a dressing gown and slippers stood on the doorstep. As soon as Toris opened the door she opened hostilities.

"It's disgraceful! This used to be a peaceful neighbourhood until you and your hoodlum gangster boss moved in…"

Toris tried to open his mouth to say something but the woman carried on.

"… and who are those men in nightdresses? Perverts! The lot of you!"

Toris tried to say something but she seemed to gain more volume and did not stop for breath.

"I'm going to report you to the police!"

"So would I…" Toris said feebly.

"What?" the woman said, dipping her head.

"Would you like a glass of vodka?" Toris asked her.

"Nyet… maybe… is it good vodka? I'd like to have a word with your gangster boss…" the woman said, shoving Toris aside. "I want to tell him he's a disgrace…"

Toris followed her down the hallway. They often had problems with the neighbours - on both sides. The house was a large one and had blocks of apartments on either side. An old lady in the second floor apartment next door frequently complained and Toris usually dealt with the complaints himself. Well, this time, he would leave it to the boss. Why should he, Lithuania, have to placate everyone all the time?

The woman stomped past the comatose Belarus and tutted, "A den of iniquity!" she said.

Poland greeted her, "Are you Braginski's neighbour? Poor you… have a glass of Katya's special home brew…" he said.

The woman glared at him, "You're a man wearing a skirt…" she said, her eyes bulging.

"Give the lady a biscuit…" Poland said, clapping slowly "…and dearie, that hairnet does not suit you, honey." Poland said, totally nonplussed.

"Where is that hoodlum idiot?" the woman said and took a gulp of Katya's 'mead'.

"And who's this gorgeous lady?" said the Stan who had been thrown through the kitchen window from his vantage point on the floor.

"Itsh disgrashful," the woman hiccupped and then blushed, "Ooh I shay… say…" she slurred and patted her hair, taking off her hairnet and attempting to smooth down her dressing gown.

"That mead works wonders, Katya," Poland said.

Katya nodded, all powers of speech now beyond her, she just giggled from a chair.

"Run away with me…" said Kazakhstan from the floor, holding up a hand. It was rather silly really as neither could have run anywhere. Kaz appeared to have twisted an ankle and the woman could now barely stand (after just one tankard of mead).

Russia stomped in, flinging open the door and slamming it so hard against the wall the whole house juddered, "Everyone can get out and go party somewhere else. I don't like anyone!" he said dramatically. He was getting a headache, he was not drunk (or not drunk enough) and his nerves were well and truly frayed.

"I've lived nesht door to you forever and ever and… I've sheen you beasht up lotsh of people, you're a monshter," the woman told Russia.

"Who are you?" Russia said.

"She's going to marry me, big brother Russia!" Kazakhstan said, still lying on the floor.

Russia turned to Lithuania (his most trusted Baltic and only solace at times when he had no idea what was happening), "Toris? What's happening? Do I need my meds again? Can we ring Dr Krackamov again?"

Toris pointed to the stairs, "Sir, perhaps if you go and have a quiet lie down. I'm sure when you get up later everything will be back to normal," he said quietly and gently.

Russia, like a little kid, headed up the stairs, Boris cat tucked under his arm like a teddy, a glass of warm milk in his other hand.

"I love you, Toris, you're, like, a hero…" Polska said.

Indeed… and who else could send Russia to bed?

Toris made good on his promise to Russia and began clearing up the Stans.

Next morning…

Russia came down the stairs and asked his most trusted Baltic, fearfully, where everyone was. The house looked remarkably normal. The Stans were gone, the yak was gone and the kitchen window was repaired.

"Your little sestra is passed out in the cellar, Sir…" but seeing Russia's horrified face, Lithuania continued, "…But the KGB will be along later to pick her up in that special van they have…" Russia visibly relaxed. "Katya left with Pol and are shopping. The Stans are just leaving but didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

Russia frowned and Lithuania pointed to the front door.

The Stans stood on the doorstep, one had a broken arm, one had two broken ribs, another was on crutches. The next door neighbour was asleep or unconscious in a wheelbarrow being pushed by Kazakhstan. Azerbaijan was attempting to shove various things in his pockets.

"Oh great and glorious big brother Russia we leave you with our greatest felicitations…" the Stans began, bowing.

"Bye then…" Russia said and slammed the door.

"Wait!" Estonia yelled, pulled open the door, ran out and grabbed Azerbaijan.

"Hey!" Azi exclaimed in protest.

Estonia stuck his hands in the Azerbaijani's pockets and pulled out 10 spoons, 4 knives, 12 forks and a multitude of necklaces and jewels - all gold. "Thief!" Estonia said in disgust.

"I always take my own cutlery everywhere! You never know when you need it!" Azi protested.

His brothers slammed him on the back - whether in disgust, shame or anger, no-one could tell - probably all three.

Latvia waved sadly, "When can they come again?" she asked Russia.

Russia shuddered and slammed the door.

"Ain't no party like a Stan party!" one of the Stans said. They all nodded sagely and trooped off down the road.

'Ted' followed them at a distance, chewing cud.

Two weeks later…

It was Estonia who woke to the sound of 'mooing' or what sounded like mooing. He pulled on his dressing gown and looked out of the window to see… 20 full-grown yaks.

"Damn Stans…" he muttered ruefully and wondered if there was any way he and his fellow Baltics could get rid of them before the boss woke…


End file.
